Redemption
by YFate
Summary: Specters of the past bring forth questions for the future. Can she save his soul, or will he wander forever in darkness? AN added with links to ficpics
1. Chapter 1

Disclaimer: I do not own Inuyasha, etc. This story is for entertainment purposes only.

REDEMPTION

Summary: Specters of the past bring forth questions for the future. Can she save his soul, or will he wander forever in darkness?

A/N: So I sit down to finally update 'The Price of Vengeance', and what do I do but start a whole new story with a whole new alternate pairing. (Boy, do I love those!) And as I'm on a big Sango kick right now, and as I read some really great 'SanBan' stories, well…voila!

CHAPTER ONE

It was time to make a decision.

Sango sighed, knowing that the inevitable had come, much as she had tried to avoid it.

"Miroku, I…" She stopped, not knowing what to say as his hands folded over hers. The prayer-beads were hard knots through the thin silk covering that protected her hands. He wore them still, out of habit rather than necessity. With Naraku's death, the Wind Tunnel had disappeared from the monk's palm, and with it the cursed death that had claimed two generations of his line.

"Sango." His expression was grave, his deep blue eyes earnest. He was a handsome man, a strong man, a man she could respect and even admire. Once upon a time, her heart would have been fluttering inside her chest, her stomach knotting in uneasy anticipation at the firm clasp of her fingers in his, the singular look of loving concern in his beautiful blue eyes.

But not now.

Her hands trembled, as if in nervous question. She was nervous, for she did not want to lose him, his friendship and his kindness. He was important to her, but not in the way he might have expected. Her earlier ideals of girlish romance and blossom-tinged dreams had changed as she grew into womanhood. She had loved him, once, and had yearned to feel his strong hands gripping hers so gently yet firmly as he was now doing. How could she not have loved him? His tenderness, his understanding, and yes, even his surprising reassurance that she, who had never considered herself even remotely pretty, was beautiful in his eyes.

"We…once we made a pledge between us…" Miroku's fingers tightened on hers as Sango dropped her gaze from his. She had known this would come, had known it for some time, and grown uneasy under the speculative looks Inuyasha and Kagome sent their way. Now that Naraku was dead, there was no true need for them to delay declaring their love for one another. But Sango had come up with one excuse or another, not the least of which was that Naraku, just before his death, had shattered the nearly completed Shikon no Tama into hundreds of tiny pieces, which were scattered once more across the face of Japan. And so they had continued their journeys together, seeking out evidence of the Jewel shards flung vicariously across their roving path.

"Miroku…" Sango tried to interrupt him, wary of the path this conversation would take. She did not want to hurt him…

"Sango, I must confess to you, that I…" Miroku's thumb softly caressed the underside of her palm, making her shiver, but not with desire, but with the thought of the pain she might cause him. Stirring restlessly, she tried once more to speak, but his clasp tightened on her fingers, asking her silently to listen. His blue eyes were deeply serious as he stared into hers.

"Once we pledged one another, and I thought that once the curse of the Kazaana was lifted from my hand by Naraku's death, I would be more than happy to settle down with you by my side, as my wife. I could dream of no other future than for you to be the one, the only one, to bear my children. I wanted that, more than anything."

Sango bit her lip, bending her head, unable to meet his earnest gaze. Miroku released one of his hands to touch her cheek briefly, a fluttering caress that brought a sheen of tearful regret to her eyes.

"I am sorry, Sango-san." His voice was heavy with remorse. Her eyes widened in surprise as his next words shocked her into silence. "But I cannot see that future for us now."

"Miroku?" Raising her eyes, she searched his with question.

"I am sorry." Miroku said, pained regret coloring his words. "You deserve so much more than I can give you. Loyalty, and honor…commitment…"

Sango smiled crookedly, the tears brushing her brown eyes into a cinnamon hue. _Commitment._ It was ever the question between them, whether or not the roving-eyed houshi would ever be able to settle for one and one woman only.

"Houshi-sama…" She clasped his hand in hers, heart-warmed that he would feel such remorse for what she herself had been guilty of. "Miroku…I have been feeling the same, and did not know how to tell you the truth. I did not want to hurt you…"

Amusement flickered in the deep blue eyes. "We have been acting like Inuyasha and Kagome, unwilling to admit our true feelings."

Which was not as true now as it had been in the past. Kikyou had passed on to the next world, taking Naraku with her into hell, as had been her intention all along. Inuyasha had mourned for her, and deeply, but he was now freed of the miko's memory, free to love Kagome as he had never been while Kikyou walked the earth as one undead and undying.

"There has always been honesty between us, Sango. And---respect." Miroku touched her cheek again in a feather-light caress, sweeping a stray lock of black hair behind her ear that had slithered free from her loose ponytail. "I would not have hurt you for the world."

"Would you accept my friendship then, Miroku, if not my love?" Sango asked quietly.

"Of course." The monk raised her hand to kiss her knuckles with a gleam of mischief in his blue eyes. "Would you then be willing to bear my---"

Sango snatched back her hand as if burned. Standing up, she put a good three feet between them. Giving him a dark look, she muttered under her breath in impotent frustration. "Of all the…"

"How could I help myself, Sango-san?" Miroku stood up, his blue eyes twinkling. "Your very beauty requires me to ask if you would consider bearing my---"

"Don't kid yourself." Sango could not help but laugh at his wounded expression. How could she have ever worried that their friendship, based on mutual respect and a shared history of both the pleasant and the pain-filled, would not survive the loss of youthful first love between them?

Miroku's eyes grew grave. "Do not kid yourself, either, Sango. You are truly beautiful."

Feeling light of heart, Sango decided to ignore the lie and tease him out of this too-serious mood. "In the eyes of a hentai, all women are beautiful."

"You don't comprehend your own---" Miroku insisted.

Sango grew serious. "Leave it, houshi-sama. It has never bothered me, that I am not one who could be considered beautiful. I am a taijiya, a warrior. I could never make a fine ornament to hang off a man's arm, I am too independent for that---and I take pride in it."

Hearing the warning etched in her voice, Miroku allowed the matter to drop---for now. With a sweeping bow, he extended his arm. "Well, then. Would you consider being an ornament long enough for me to escort you back to our current camp?"

Sango could not resist laughing at his gallantry. Smacking him lightly on the arm, she sauntered on ahead, her heart freer than it had been in a long time. Miroku followed, his smile soft, if his eyes were sad at the loss of what could not have been…

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His shoulders twitched.

The monk was staring hard at him. Again.

Letting out a gusty sigh, he deliberately put down his saucer of rice wine, having drained the last of it. Wiping stray drops off his mouth, he closed his eyes, one hand fisted on his hip where he sat on the bench, one knee negligently leaning against the comforting weight of his companion.

The monk continued to watch him.

His shoulders were twitching again, damn it. Stretching with a deliberately casual motion, he finally stood up. One hand crept to the familiar hilt of his sword. He really should take some time out tonight and go over the surface with a whet stone---although the edge was always sharp enough to do the job. He grinned slightly at the thought. Still, his sword was his life, and he liked to keep it in good condition.

He tossed a few coins on the bench beside the empty saucer. The groveling innkeep would be by to sweep it up under his dusty robes. The sake hadn't been all that great, but it had quenched his thirst, which is why he had stopped at this humble inn. Peering up at the hazy clouds that were slowly encroaching across the pale blue sky, he noted the direction and slight dampness to the light breeze. Looked like rain would fall before night chose to do so.

Shrugging, he sauntered off, certain that the staring monk would eventually follow. They always did, hoping to purify him. How generous they were. Striding quickly into the thick woodlands that surrounded the small village, he wondered when, and if, the monk would catch up to him.

But this one was quick, for an old man. Inevitably, he was gasping and out of breath when he finally shouted across the small clearing that separated the two of them.

"You there! Stop!"

Should he? He mused the thought over a bit, his stride slowing until he finally stopped. Very well. The decision had been made by his feet.

"You are not of this world!"

He sighed again. Could they never come up with anything better to say? It was as if every single one of them read from the same bad script from the same bad play.

Slowly turning around, he regarded the old man, who was dressed in the dusty rags of a traveling priest. Even his reed hat was fraying around the edges. Rather pathetic, really. One would think a holy man could find ways to earn a little money to keep himself up.

The old man wheezed, still trying to catch his breath, even as he stepped forward, the rings on his staff tinkling faintly in the rising wind. The rain clouds were coming closer. He would not make shelter before they hit. Best to get this over with quickly, so that he could continue. He didn't care if he, himself, got wet, but he didn't like his sword getting rusty in the damp. Never a good thing, that.

"I can help you, put you to rest. You wander the earth---" The old man wheezed.

Which was perfectly true. He did wander, too restless to stay long in any one place.

"---the walking undead. I can free you, save you. Let me…" The old man grasped a few paltry bits of paper in his gnarled hand. There was fancy symbols across them, calligraphy and prayers.

Like sacred sutras would ever work on someone like _him. _

"What makes you think that I'm not perfectly happy with the way things are, monk?" He asked, though he didn't really have to. He always got the same reaction---surprise, if not shock, and a growing conviction on their part that they knew what was best for him, and would do it no matter what protests _he_ might have about it. The monks in this familiarly, oft-times repetitively bad play never deviated from their roles.

"I will free you, and send your spirit back into the afterlife where it belongs!" The old man's bellow was pretty impressive, considering how much he had been panting from his run to catch up with him.

With a sigh, he stripped the silken sheath from his beloved companion. The purple silk slithered to the ground with a faint whisper, loud in the sudden silence of the clearing. The wind sprang up, almost icy in its touch, though cold was something this body could never feel now. Useful, that.

"Know peace in the afterlife, my son!" The monk threw the fancy sutras at him with all his might, his black eyes earnest with the convictions of his faith.

Stupid man.

What gods were there to help anyone? He had never seen evidence of them, in this world or the next.

Smiling faintly, he slashed his giant sword twice through the air, neatly shredding the trivial wisps of pandering paper into tiny bits that danced away on the rising wind, slowly spinning into maddening eddies as the grey-clouded sky ominously darkened. He could feel the first icy drops touch his cheek as the monk gasped, his black eyes wide with fear.

"You are a devil!" The monk shrunk back, away from him.

They never changed, and neither would he.

Hefting his beloved Banryuu in one hand, Bankotsu slashed once more…

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A/N: Please let me know if this is OOC or just wank. I always accept constructive criticism, and thanks in advance for any help!

Fate


	2. Chapter 2

Disclaimer: I do not own Inuyasha, etc. This story is for entertainment purposes only.

REDEMPTION

Summary: Specters of the past bring forth questions for the future. Can she save his soul, or will he wander forever in darkness?

A/N: Forgot to add a warning. This story contains violence, dark and adult themes and potty mouths. I may raise the rating to 'M', not sure if leering at hot tubs is too racy for 'T'. XP Bambi-Lover, I put '1111' in between scene changes, as my usual stars and wiggly lines don't show up on ff (dot) net. Chigirl, I have not forgotten "The Source of Solace", it's just on hold until I finish this San/Ban idea out. Thank you for asking. Guyute24 and Toast Lover, thank you for your reviews, muchly appreciated! Fate

CHAPTER TWO

"A ravaging bear, you say?" Miroku leaned against his ringed staff, trying to ease the frightened villager who shifted nervously from foot to foot, glancing over his shoulder at the impatient half-demon who glared back at him with amber eyes.

"Yes, houshi-sama." The villager bobbed like a drunken sailor, wary of the hanyou's scowl. "It has been terrorizing the countryside around here for quite some time…"

"Blah blah blah." Inuyasha snorted belligerently. "C'mon, Miroku. We've heard this shit before. Just point us in the direction of the bear, old man, and we'll be on our way."

"Inuyasha!" Kagome protested, though it was rather a weak effort. Admitting her love for the rough hanyou had taken all the fire out of her ever being truly angry with him.

Sango simply smiled, while Shippou gave the dog-demon a look of disgust from his perch on her shoulder. Kirara only stared enigmatically out of crimsoned eyes as only a cute kitten-sized neko could, though her creamy tails lashed in amusement.

"Where was the bear last seen?" Miroku asked, ever the arbitrator.

The man's eyes slid from hanyou to monk before he extended one skinny arm toward the west, where fields branched out beside thick forests over undulating hills that would eventually crest into lower mountains further north. "T-That way, houshi-sama."

"Fine. Let's go." Inuyasha turned abruptly away, the women following with a shrug. Miroku paused long enough to thank the old man before hurrying to catch up with them.

Kagome lengthened her stride so that she could draw level with her rather impatient mate. "You could have been nicer to him, Inuyasha," she lightly scolded, taking his arm.

"Feh. Whatever." Inuyasha's attention was on the surrounding hills, trying to catch any sign of their intended quarry. He pretended to ignore the girl's presence at his side, but his claws curved over her fingers in a silent caress.

"Do you sense any Jewel shards?" Sango asked, easing the shoulder-strap of her Hiraikotsu where it bit into her flesh. Adjusting the heavy boomerang to a more comfortable position, she idly wondered if she should not step off into the brush and change into her demon-laced armor of black silk.

Kagome paused, pushing out her senses. "I…think so…" She said dubiously, her head turning to the right. Inuyasha stopped, his amber eyes intent on the girl's confused expression.

"What do you sense, Kagome?" He asked her, his voice gentle as it could only be for those he cared deeply for.

Kagome frowned in concentration. "I could have sworn I felt quite a large number of Jewel shards over that way." She waved her hand to the right of the group that clustered around her on the shallow ridge between forest and field. Shaking her head, she shrugged. "But now it's gone, and I can't sense them any more."

"Do you think the bear youkai could have more than one shard in him?" Sango asked Miroku.

"It's possible, but I don't think so." Miroku said after a moment's thought. "From what damage has been done, the bear youkai does not seem all that strong. Remember that with each shard of the Jewel, a demon's strength grows _exponentially."_

Inuyasha scowled. The monk was ever ready to tease him about that damn word.

"Didn't that bear youkai we fought once before have only one shard?" Shippou piped up, unable to resist adding in his two cents.

"Right, Shippou, it did." Kagome answered with a warm smile. The little fox beamed at her approval.

"We're wasting time here." Inuyasha growled, fed up with their dallying. "Kagome, can you sense a Jewel shard or not?"

"I'm looking, I'm looking!" Kagome glared back at him before closing her eyes so she could concentrate. Everyone stared at her, wondering if she felt anything.

"Inuyasha…" Shippou suddenly tensed on Sango's shoulder, and Kirara hissed in unison, her creamy fur standing on end.

Kagome's eyes flew open. "Inuyasha! It's right behind us---"

Everyone scattered as a huge shadow abruptly loomed over them, blocking out the weak light of the day's sun. A giant paw, claws extended, racked deep furrows in the ground where they had been standing just moments before. The beast bellowed its rage and fury over having missed such easy prey, and turned its head to snarl as Kirara rose on fiery paws, Sango perched astride the transformed kitten.

"Damn it all!" Inuyasha leapt into the sheltering forest, Kagome held safe in his arms. He needed to find a place to dump her out of harm's way, then he could draw Tetsusaiga and take care of the stupid youkai with one sweep of the Wind Scar.

Shippou bounced to Kirara's shoulders as Sango freed her weapon. "Miroku!" She called, worried that he was only a few feet from the raging bear, crouching under the scant cover of a few bushes, where he had rolled out of the way.

Even without the use of his Kazaana, the monk was hardly defenseless, however. Jumping to his feet, he whirled his staff in a spinning arc. Using the force of the staff's spin, he dove for the distracted bear's back, bringing his holy staff down with a jangling clang of its rings on the youkai's spine.

The bear yowled in agony at the touch of the staff's purity. Turning its head, its beady eyes, reddened with rage, focused on the monk, who tried to spring free off the bear's back. The bear twisted on itself with surprising agility, a huge paw swiping at the blue-robed form of its tormentor.

There wasn't enough time for Sango to release her weapon and still be able to save Miroku before the bear's claws intercepted the retreating monk. With sudden clarity, Sango knew what she needed to do. Sliding off Kirara's back, she used the neko's sturdy length to leap off far enough that her fall would take her right in front of the youkai's descending paw. Swinging Hiraikotsu around like a shield, she blocked the blow meant to disembowel the houshi from shoulder to thigh.

The bear roared furiously at the successful block of its attack. The daring move had cost her, though---Sango could feel her wrist wrenched back into an awkward angle as the weight of the bear's paw crashed down on the boomerang. Claws curled over the boomerang's broad surface as Sango tried to wrest it from the youkai's grip, to no avail. Gritting her teeth against the pain, Sango used her hold on Hiraikotsu's strap to kick out at the furry arm of the raging beast.

"Damn it, Sango! Get clear of that thing so I can take it out with the Wind Scar!" Inuyasha bellowed from somewhere beneath her.

"I'm trying!" She snarled against the pain in her abused wrist as she used it once more to aim a second vicious kick at the beast. This time, she felt the impact jarring up her calf and thigh with the impetus of her kick. The bear yowled in anger, shaking loose the boomerang as its claws convulsively opened with the pain that shuddered down its arm.

Sango's tumble through the air was less than graceful as she curled around her Hiraikotsu, hoping it would break her fall. She plowed into a thorny bush and got a face full of dirt before her legs hurled over her head and she landed on her back with a dull thud of impact that sent the air streaming out of her lungs in a choking gasp. She blinked back the tears of pain as Hiraikotsu thudded to the earth mere inches from her outstretched hand.

"Kaze no Kizu!"

Spots danced before her eyes as yellow fire flared in her wake. The bear's anguished howl was abruptly cut short as the Wind Scar incinerated the demon to ash.

"It's gone!" Inuyasha yelled with smug triumph as Kirara reowled in agreement, sweeping back down to the earth in a blossoming trail of flickering flames.

Sango didn't feel at all like moving. Every nerve was screaming at her from the abuse she had just put on her body in that fight.

"I found the Jewel shard!" Kagome called out, gaily waving her purified prize.

Sango heard rustling in the bushes beside her, and Miroku suddenly loomed over her, his blue eyes concerned. "Sango, are you all right?"

Sango blinked up at him, the edges of her vision blurring. She managed a half-hearted smile to reassure him, even trying to move, but the houshi laid a gentle hand on her shoulder to stay the motion.

"Don't worry. You're hurt. Just lie still so we can tend you."

Sango closed her eyes with a wince.

Gods, she hurt.

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Leaning heavily on Kirara, Sango gingerly lowered herself to the pool's edge. The rocky surface felt slickly chilled to her bare skin. The air was cool enough that her arms were goose-pimpled with the bite, but the steamy heat of the hot spring beckoned her with drowsy warmth. Kirara nudged her with a slight purr, urging her into the soothing depths. Sango patted the neko, grateful that the cat would come even this close to the water she would normally disdain.

"Do you need any help, Sango-chan?" Kagome asked her, already neck-deep in the pool with her hair carefully tied up out of the way.

"No." Sango replied, edging forward so that she could dangle her legs in the heated water. Her muscles tensed at the first touch of the near boiling temperature, but then relaxed as the heat flushed up her white skin. With a faint smile, she added, "Thank you."

Kirara took that as dismissal, and left with alacrity, hissing as the damp steam ruffled through her fur.

If there was one feeling Sango hated the most, it was feeling helpless. Independent to a fault, it was still difficult for her to rely on others, even when she needed it. Cradling her sprained wrist against her chest, she slithered forward until she could use her good arm to lever herself down into the gently lapping water. The various cuts and scrapes she had picked up earlier that afternoon smarted at first, but then they numbed beneath the pool's steamy influence as she eased back against the convenient ledge that served as rather a nice seat.

"You don't have to be careful about getting your wrist wet." Kagome said helpfully as she sunk further into the water, causing lazy eddies to spring in widening circles around her languid movements beneath the pool's glassy surface. "I have more bandages in my pack."

"The heat might help." Sango admitted, wiggling the toes of her left foot. She had a bruise on her ankle that had caused her to limp slightly, as well as the bone sprain on her wrist that would take longer to heal. She was lucky she hadn't snapped the bones in her wrist with the force of the impact that had twisted it under Hiraikotsu.

Gingerly lowering her right arm to the water, she hissed as the hot water splashed over the tightly-wrapped bandage. But then the heat enveloped her tensed muscles, and she sighed as the sharp pain slowly left her for blessed numbness. "Kagome, thank you. This is just what I needed."

"I thought so." Kagome smiled, glad that she had insisted they come to the hot springs. It was some distance from their impromptu camp, but it had been worth the effort. Inuyasha had protested, of course, but _that_ was nothing new.

Both girls relaxed into the silence, allowing the misty vapors to envelop them. Sango sank lower into the water, careless of how wet her hair became. It undulated around her in lazy spirals as she closed her eyes and thought of nothing much at all. She felt lazily safe, for once. Strange how the normal sounds of the forest at night were muffled here…

"What was that?" Kagome shot up, sending waves cresting over Sango's shoulders.

Sango's eyes flew open, her body swiftly tensed in the thick silence that suddenly seemed so menacing. "What is it, Kagome?" She asked, warily scanning the shadowy trees that surrounded the isolated pool. She had left her weapons behind her, back at the camp, and the small poniard she always kept on her was left with her abandoned clothing back on the rocks. Sango made an abortive move to get up, but Kagome laughed, dispelling her tension, as a bird fluttered in the leafy branches over head, keyawing its discontent.

"It was nothing more than a bird." Kagome giggled as the bird cried its displeasure at them before taking wing, leaving the night-wrapped woods to settle into silent stillness once more. "Sorry, Sango-chan. I didn't mean to startle you."

"It's all right, Kagome." Sango ruefully settled back into the water, deliberately releasing stiffened muscles. But she could not relax now, and neither could Kagome, who was reaching for her tube of flower-scented soap.

"Might as well wash my hair." Kagome spurted lotion into her palm before releasing the inky black tresses of her hair and ducking under the water long enough to get them wet. Using her fingers, she combed the sudsy cream through her wet locks, ducking several times to get every trace of it off before finally being satisfied.

Sango thought longingly of washing her own hair, but with only one arm it could prove awkward. She felt too shy to ask Kagome's help, for so paltry a reason…

But Kagome had known the slayer too long to not understand her reticence about asking for help of any kind. Taking matters into her own hands, the young miko picked up the bottle of shampoo and waggled it in Sango's direction. "Now it's your turn!"

"Don't worry about it, Kagome-chan…" Sango hesitated, but Kagome left no room for argument. Splashing across the pool with bottle in hand, she deftly turned Sango around so that she could squirt a handful on top of her head. With brisk motions, she lathered the scented soap through Sango's long tresses, surprised at how heavy and thick the taijiya's hair was when wet.

"You have a lot of hair." Kagome said nonchalantly. Sango flushed, feeling guilty. Kagome pressed lightly on her shoulder. "Now lean back, so I can wash all of it out."

Biting her lip, Sango mutely did as she was told.

"Done." Kagome said with relish, combing the silky tangles of Sango's bangs back from her forehead. Sango murmured her thanks, blushing in embarrassment at how useless she must seem.

Kagome was having none of it. "Now, do you need help washing, or can you manage on your own?"

Sango's eyes widened in shock. "Wha…what?"

Kagome giggled. "Thought so. You're not as independent as you like to think, Sango." Her brown eyes grew serious, her voice almost wistful. "And you know, I don't mind being asked to help you out once in awhile. That's what friends are for, you know. To be there when you need them. Especially for the little things."

Sango flushed for a totally different reason now. Kagome was right. She was often way too extreme in her determination to rely only on herself. Time and again, her friends had been there for her, to help her through good times and bad. She should learn to let them help her out once in awhile. But she had guarded herself too long to be able to easily break the barriers of her independent nature, even for her dearest friend.

"Thank you, Kagome-chan. I will try and remember that."

And perhaps she would…eventually.

But for right now, she could manage to wash herself---without help. With a faint smile, Sango reached for the soap Kagome held out to her.

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He sat in the crook of a nearby tree, negligently watching them. Idly smoothing the silken wrap that covered his Banryuu, he tried to remember just where he had seen those two women before. Their names tugged on his memory, stirring up painful whispers of the past. They seemed normal enough women, though prettier than most. He had been attracted to the sound of splashing and feminine voices caught on the faint breeze, and gone to investigate.

What healthy man wouldn't?

Stealthily climbing into his current perch, he had watched with interest as the two young women relaxed in the gently steaming pool, had even toyed with the notion of going down and joining them. He liked a good tumble now and then with a willing woman, and the opportunity was there, right in front of him. He was confident of his ability to charm women to his side, had he not proved it often enough in the past?

He had almost decided to make his presence known, when that damn bird had thrashed in the tree beside him, annoyed by his proximity.

He had froze as the two women tensed beneath him, scarcely breathing until the damn bird finally went away and the pair below had relaxed enough to wash each other's hair. He had spent another enjoyable half-hour, catching a glimpse of flushing white skin and slow movement. It was almost worth not joining them to see such a sight…

He frowned as the curvier one got out, helping the other up out of the water and handing her a thick cloth to dry off with. The first girl rummaged through their clothing, coming up with a strange kimono of white and green. But his attention was caught by the strange markings on the second, slender girl's back, just where her spine curved up to meet her shoulders. There, in the center, was a nasty looking scar, almost star-shaped in outline.

_That must've hurt._

She also seemed to be sporting a bandaged wrist, and he wonder what had gotten to her. A demon? They weren't as thick in these parts, but the story was an old one. Could have been anything, really. The daimyos' wars had made strange victims---and stranger heroes.

"Do you need help with your yukata?" The curvier one, already dressed, held out a simple, rose-splashed robe.

"No thank you, Kagome-chan." The other replied, taking the loose wrap from her friend, who was dressed in the most outlandish outfit, her kimono covering her arms to the wrists, but her hem almost obscenely short, giving a good long glimpse of creamy thigh.

And that was when he put two and two together, and froze with a sudden glare out of glittering blue eyes, his right hand white-knuckled over the long, half-mooned hilt of his sword.

For those two had traveled with the Inu-gumi, and were part of the hanyou's pack. They had been the ones who slaughtered his brothers, and slayed the dark oni who had bought his loyalty twice over with his resurrection back into life.

With a snarl of fury, Bankotsu leapt from his perch.


	3. Chapter 3

Disclaimer: I do not own Inuyasha, etc. This story is for entertainment purposes only.

REDEMPTION

Summary: Specters of the past bring forth questions for the future. Can she save his soul, or will he wander forever in darkness?

CHAPTER THREE

It wasn't exactly a fight---at least not to Sango's way of thinking. Of course, at the time, she was hardly doing anything more than reacting to the sudden appearance of what amounted to a deadly, vengeful ghost in their midst. A ghost she had never thought to see again…

A slight noise---what noise she could not name ever afterward---caught her startled attention, and it was astonishing how quickly she reacted by pushing Kagome out of the way. She couldn't say what, exactly, had made her act that way, but it saved the young miko's life. Even as Kagome cried out in bewilderment, falling backwards under Sango's abrupt shove and sprawling into a tangling thorn-bush, the down-sweeping cut of a giant sword slashed across the space she had just occupied.

Biting back the stab of pain that shot up her arm from her abused wrist, Sango dove for the bundle of their clothing, where her small poniard lay hidden. There was a curse behind her, and Kagome's startled scream as their attacker aimed another swing in her direction. The miko was no fool, and having dodged the back-swing of the huge blade, she retreated, yelling out at their unnamed foe with angry confusion.

"Just what the heck do you think you're doing!"

"Huh. I should think it's obvious, woman."

The arrogant voice made Sango stiffened. She recognized it, if not to whom it belonged. Muttering at the tangled folds of discarded towels and robes, she managed to wrest free Kagome's bow and arrows, as well as her own small dagger. Little defense, truth be told, and she wondered tightly if Kirara was near enough to hear the commotion and come to their aid. Still, she was determined to give as good as she got.

Standing up, she confronted the man, whose back was to her, his giant halberd raised two-handed over his head. Kagome had retreated well beyond range of the wide-sweeping blade, her face white in the scanty moonlight. The man was cast in shadow, though the white cloth of his hakama gleamed faintly around the darker gray shadow of his armor. A single long braid hung down his back, an inky silhouette against the glow of faint moonlight that cast him in obscured anonymity.

"Maybe you should think twice about attacking us, bandit." Sango answered with more bravado than sense, hoping to distract him from her vulnerable friend. The cold air chilled across her wet skin, the warmth from the hot spring forgotten as her simple yukata clung uncomfortably to the soggy areas that dampened her skin. She stood in a threatening pose, the dagger held aggressively before her.

The man turned, so that his arrogant face was in profile. His laugh was short and mocking. "And what do you think you can do with _that_ thing?"

Good, she had surmised his character rightly---he was as conceited and arrogant as his casual stance had told her. His rancor got on her nerves, and Sango itched to take that pompous ego down a notch or two.

"I can do plenty, bandit." Sango replied, her voice riddled with contempt, hoping to goad and distract him into doing something stupid. "You must feel like a big man, swinging that giant sword around and attacking two unarmed women like this."

The man actually turned to face her, bringing his giant sword up to rest it idly on his shoulder, as if in thought."You talk pretty tough, ninja-girl."

_Ninja?_

Sango frowned. Was the man a fool? She didn't care to correct him.

Dark eyes glittered in the faint moonlight, a smirk twisting the corners of his arrogant mouth. Cocky bastard. She should know him from somewhere…

But she now had him just as she wanted---distracted and way too sure of himself. With a yell to divert him further, she leaped to the side and threw Kagome's bow and arrows as hard as she could, hoping the miko would be able to snatch them and make good use of them. If she could distract the fool long enough, Kagome might be able to let fly a sacred arrow in his direction…the girl's aim was far better now than in the past.

Kagome, anticipating her action, dove for the bow and quiver sent flying her way. But the man was quick, and rather than being diverted by Sango's tactic and coming after _her, _he aimed a sweeping blow at the diving miko.

"Kagome!" Sango cried out in warning. Kagome dodged the powerful sweep of the blade at the last second, twisting aside and rolling back into the underbrush. The man laughed, striding forward with flagrant contempt to follow the fleeing girl into the brush. It was then that Sango saw his face in the brightening silver light of the moon as the thinning clouds wisped away, baring better light to the shadow-ridden clearing.

Seeing the four-pointed star that marked his forehead, Sango's chest tightened.

"Bankotsu!" She breathed in stunned recognition.

The man turned back to look at her over his shoulder with a cocky grin. "Glad you remember my name, ninja."

"But you are dead!" Kagome burst out, drawing his attention back to her.

"So I am." Bankotsu smirked, lifting his giant halberd up with too-easy strength.

"But Inuyasha killed you!" Kagome protested, still dazed with shock.

"So he did." Bankotsu's smile was caustic as his dark eyes glittered.

"But how---" Kagome could not see the danger she was now in as Bankotsu, finally done with all this jabbering, aimed a swing at her head.

"Run, Kagome!" Sango cried, seeing the deadly arc of his imminent blow. Abandoning all caution, she flung herself at the ghostly apparition's back, clinging like a leech and seeking to plunge her poniard into his unprotected neck, where the Jewel shards he had once possessed had been lodged. It was the only way she could think to kill him…

But Bankotsu was quick. And strong. He grabbed hold of Sango with one hand and flung her aside like her solid weight was nothing. Sango sailed through the air, landing with a painful thud against the back of a tree, where she sunk down to her knees in a daze. Fighting back the nausea that threatened to overwhelm her, she grimly hung on to the dagger that was her only protection against the maniac.

Fighting to her feet, Sango noted with grim satisfaction that Kagome had heeded her words, and was fleeing into the forest, screaming out for Inuyasha, Kirara, for anybody who might help them. Inuyasha's hearing was keen, help would come soon. She just needed to hold out a little longer…

Swaying back against the tree, Sango didn't feel all that good about her chances. Still, she was a taijiya, a warrior. She wouldn't back down from this cocky bastard. The man fairly oozed with smug assurance as he swaggered toward her shaky position. "That was stupid, wench. You should have used the other girl's death to make your own escape."

"You haven't changed much, I see." Sango managed between staggered breaths. Her strained wrist throbbed painfully, and she leaned lightly on her bruised ankle, careful not to put too much weight on her left side. Ignoring the pain, she straightened, using the rough bark of the tree against her back as a prop. "You still play the self-centered little bloodthirsty boy that you are."

"Huh. I'm disappointed you count me so little." Bankotsu shrugged off her barb with a surprisingly charming little smile, though his blue eyes glittered in the gray moonlight as he stared back at her.

Good. If she kept the cocky bastard talking, she could buy time for her friends to arrive.

Tipping his mighty sword up, Bankotsu rested it on his armored shoulder with almost casual disdain. "You sure talk a lot for one who's companion just left her all alone."

Did he hope to rattle her with that fact? Sango's eyes narrowed, trying to figure just what game the mercenary was playing.

"You don't look all that tough, ninja, wounded as you are. You talk big, but I wonder if you can back it up." He was smiling again, assured of his superior strength. "I can kill you, you know, any time I want."

"Then why don't you?" Sango grit out, her own anger flaring at the sharp sting to her pride before she smothered it beneath the firm control of her father's teaching. Just a little longer…

"Touchy, aren't we?" The bastard seemed to be enjoying this. His eyes roamed over her form, where the damp cloth of her yukata hung too close to her curves for much comfort. Flushing beneath his wandering gaze, her lips thinned into a tight line as the anger battered at her thin mask of stoic calm.

"Are you going to fight with me, Bankotsu, or just stare?" She gritted through clenched teeth.

"Huh. You have quite a temper, I see." He was almost negligent, his stance speaking volumes about how casually contemptuous he was of her abilities to defend herself. Sango found her own plan to enflame the boy's inflated ego being turned back on her, and made an inarticulate sound in the back of her throat.

"I think I might have just changed my mind, ninja. I was just going to hurry up and kill you, you know, but I wonder if you might just serve a better purpose for me as…bait."

_Bait?_

Sango's nostrils flared with disgust. He thought to use her as a lure to get to her friends? He was more like Naraku than she would have credited him with. Time and again, the dark hanyou had used innocent people to try and get at one or another of their group, and each time he had failed. Sango had a deeply seeded hatred for those who would use others for their own ends, as her poor brother had been used. She wasn't about to wait around for this cocky bastard to put action to words. With a furious cry, she flung herself at him, her dagger striking for his unprotected neck.

Bankotsu quickly countered her strike with the thick padding of his vambraces. The hardened leather deflected the blade, turning her knife so that he could try and grab her wrist. Furious, Sango ducked, and came up inside his guard, plunging the dagger into his side up to the hilt. Bankotsu didn't even try to deflect the blade, instead grabbing her by the shoulder and giving it a good hard twist that made her cry out and release the poniard's hilt. It was with an almost contemptuous move that he flung her away from him, not even bothering to lower his Banryuu off his shoulder as he slowly followed after her.

Her legs tangling in the clinging fabric of her wet yukata, Sango tumbled end over end, until she felt something strike her hard in the side of her temple, and she crumpled in upon herself in a dead faint.

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"That was almost too easy." Bankotsu stalked over to the unconscious girl, a smug grin crooking his mouth as he stared down at her. She hadn't put up too much of a fight. Didn't say much for the abilities of a girl ninja.

A faint shout somewhere in the dark forest behind him made him cock his head to the side. Looked like Inuyasha was finally coming onto the scene---a little too late, as usual. He and Inuyasha had some unfinished business to attend to, and Bankotsu had quite a few half-formed plans dancing around inside his brain as to how he might take out his vengeance on that particular dog-boy.

With a casual flick, he dislodged the ninja's dagger and threw it aside. The wound was already closing, the faint stab of pain receding into distant memory. With the additional Jewel shards he had accumulated inside of his body, he could heal faster than ever before. It had been worth every effort to collect all that he could.

Bending down, he picked up the girl and flung her over his shoulder with a slight grunt of effort. She didn't weigh as much as he would have expected. Didn't matter though, she wouldn't have slowed him down one bit, even if she had weighed as much as his beloved Banryuu.

With sword on one shoulder, and unconscious girl on the other, he slowly faced toward the east. Flicking his thumb across the outlined shards he had added to the half-moon emblem that decorated the end of Banryuu's hilt, he willed himself gone from this place. Naraku had taught him well in the many ways he might use the Shikon shards for his own benefit.

There was a flash of sullen fuchsia light, and the three of them---mercenary, sword and girl---slowly melted into nothing, vanishing from the clearing as if no one had ever been there, the swirling mists of the hot springs steaming gently in the deserted silence of the lonely night.

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A/N: Mwa-ha-ha! A cliffie! Don't you just love those? This chapter was short, but I promise the next one will be longer. I want to thank you all for the lovely reviews, they keep me typing in the dark hours when the plot bunnies have all hopped away. XD


	4. Chapter 4

Disclaimer: I do not own Inuyasha, etc. This story is for entertainment purposes only.

_REDEMPTION_

Summary: Specters of the past bring forth questions for the future. Can she save his soul, or will he wander forever in darkness?

_WORDS_

_aniki - older brother_

_neko - cat _

WARNING: Bad language and a rather casual disregard for the dead.

_CHAPTER FOUR_

Her head was hurting. It was pounding. No, kami, it was _throbbing._

Ugh.

Lashes fluttering, Sango restlessly turned her head from side to side, trying to dislodge whatever it was that obscured her vision and pressed down on her temples. Hissing with pain, she suddenly blinked open her eyes, and nearly shrieked at the face that hovered so close to hers.

"You awake yet?"

Sango made an abortive attempt to strike out at the lecher, but her hands had been tied at the wrists, and the motion---and the searing pain that accompanied it---jarred her completely awake.

And to a complete recall of recent events.

Eyes wide, she shied away from the mercenary, who now sat back away from her, leaning against the weathered boards of the wooden wall behind him, and regarding her with some amusement in his too-blue eyes. The star-shaped cross on his forehead was dark as a dried bloodstain in the dim, shadow-cast light that surrounded them. Something tickled and scratched at her back, and Sango realized with a start that she was lying on straw, of all things, and that she was covered by a tattered---and rather smelly---blanket.

"Where am I?" She tried to demand, but her throat was too dry to get out more than a weak cough.

"Thirsty, huh?" Bankotsu extended a small wooden flask in her direction.

Sango stared at him.

Was he serious?

"Go on, take it. It's just water, not poison or anything." He seemed impatient with her reticence. He looked thoughtful for a moment, and slowly grinned as an idea occurred to him. "Heh---though that's not such a bad idea. Be a good way to take an enemy out without him even knowing it was you."

And that statement was supposed to reassure her _how?_

Nerves on edge, Sango used the rush of adrenalin his casual words gave her to boost herself up to an awkward position, sliding back away from him to the other side of the narrow room or whatever else this place was. Straw lay thick and musty across the dirt floor, and the smell was something she could not describe without wanting to gag. The heavy stench of pent-up animals hung in the air like a thick shroud, and she wandered suddenly if they were in some kind of stable or barn.

Leaning back against the creaky boards that made up the wall opposite his, she managed to drag the blanket with her, feeling somewhat vulnerable in just her rose-and-white yukata. Her hair hung thick and heavy down her back and shoulders, tangled with bits of straw and leaves. She stared at her captor with suspicion, not knowing what to say.

Bankotsu waggled the wooden bottle at her suggestively. "Well? Do you want a drink or not?"

He extended it towards her, and Sango, after a long, measuring look, swallowed against the dry soreness of her throat, and finally extended her bound hands to take it from him. But she instinctively reached with her right hand, and when Bankotsu dropped the solid weight into her palm, her fingers spasmed open with the agony that shot up her abused wrist from the movement. Lips whitening to keep back the cry of pain that threatened to emerge, Sango snatched back her hands, cradling her wrist in her lap and blinking back the blurred images that crowded the edges of her vision.

The dropped flagon rolled into the straw with rustling complaint. Something stamped in one of the other stalls on the far side of the low building.

"Huh. Forgot about your wrist." Bankotsu shrugged and easily retrieved the fallen bottle by the leather thong attached to the top. With a deft twist, he uncorked the simple wooden vessel and surged up to lean on one knee so he could offer it to her.

Expression tight, Sango shied away from the guy's proximity. Was he crazy?

Bankotsu sighed with impatience, his blue eyes narrowing. "Do you want a drink or not?"

Trying to swallow back the dryness from her throat, Sango finally gave in. Warily, she nodded, and Bankotsu tipped the bottle up to her lips, which she obediently parted. The first splash of fetid water was pure ambrosia to her dry throat, and Sango hastily gulped down as much as she could of the heaven-sent liquid, lest he take it back from her, and nearly ended up choking on her own greed as a result.

"Easy, now!" Bankotsu chided her with a grin, withdrawing the bottle. His free hand came up to lightly cup her shoulder, helping to steady her as she coughed weakly. Sango twitched at the unwanted contact, but he ignored the movement, instead offering her the bottle again.

Once she had drunk her fill, he removed both himself and the bottle, much to Sango's relief. What was with him, anyway? He was acting like they were just visiting like any old friends.

The thought made her stiffen. Was he trying to disarm her, then? Hoping that she might relax her guard and fall for some stupid trick he thought might work on her? Did he think himself so charming and her so stupid as to fall for something like that?

Or maybe he was just crazy.

She liked that notion even less. Drawing her knees up beneath the smelly blanket, she stared at him, hard.

Bankotsu scratched the back of his neck with irritation. "What?"

"What game are you trying to play? It won't work." Sango's voice had an edge to it.

"Game?" Bankotsu looked sincerely puzzled. He _had_ to be crazy.

"Why are you being…nice…to me?"

"Nice?" Bankotsu didn't seem to like that word all too much. He even grimaced. "I'm just making sure that you're okay. I'm not being _nice."_

Sango just looked at him, not knowing what to say to that statement.

"While you're my guest, I have to take care of you." Bankotsu insisted, and seemed to actually believe it.

Sango sputtered. _"Guest?"_

"Well, you are my guest, aren't you?"

Could he be, as Kagome was often wont to say, for _real?_

"I don't exactly remember coming here by choice." Sango managed to grit out, her brown eyes hard.

"Well, now, that's true, but I don't see why it would make any kind of difference." Bankotsu shrugged, unconcerned.

"You don't?" Sango could only look astonished.

"How am I supposed to treat you then?" He demanded, finally getting irritated with her astonishment.

Chagrined, Sango could only stare at him. She would be an idiot if she were to tell him what most kidnappers did with their captives. Should she start by telling him he was supposed to lock her up somewhere damp, dark and disgusting and throw away the key? That he was supposed to starve her to death and not care if she was thirsty or not?

Of course not.

But how could he, bloodthirsty, thrice-living mercenary and self-proclaimed killer of over a thousand men, be so naïve? It made no sense!

Cocking a brow at her, Bankotsu actually managed a charming grin. "I'm not all bad, you know. Eventually, I'm going to have to kill you, but it doesn't mean we have to spend an unpleasant time together _now, _does it?"

Sango's mouth fell open, unable to think of a single thing to say to that sentiment.

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"Damn it! How am I supposed to find them when I can't get a trace of their scent anywhere?" Inuyasha snarled, white claws curling into a fist of impotent rage.

"Oh, Sango." Kagome buried her head against Shippou, who was cradled in her arms, crying.

"K-Kagome…Sango will be all right, w-won't she?" Shippou sniffled, the tears leaking down reddened cheeks. Shippou was terrified of what Bankotsu might do to the taijiya. No one knew what that madman was capable of, and all feared for Sango's safety, though no one spoke their worry aloud.

"We have to find them, Inuyasha." Miroku's hands tightened on his ringed staff.

"Well, where the hell am I supposed to start, monk?" Inuyasha turned on him, all of his thwarted frustration finally finding an outlet. "This place reeks of Bankotsu and Sango, but there's no trail leading _out_ of it!"

Kirara made a low noise in the back of her throat, her small, dejected posture speaking all too loudly of her sadness and loss. She was hurt the most by Sango's sudden disappearance, and even Kagome could not comfort the two-tailed neko. Kirara had spent the better part of the night hunting through the nearby woodlands, even taking up into the sky to scout out possible directions Bankotsu might have gone.

They were reasonably sure that the resurrected mercenary had taken Sango, rather than killing her out-right. For one, there was no blood-scent in the clearing, and second, why would he take her somewhere else just to kill her, when he could just do it here and save himself the time and effort? No, they all could agree that Bankotsu had taken Sango captive, and they were all pretty sure why.

"If he's hoping to lure me to some place of his choosing so that he can fight me on his own terms, than why the hell didn't he leave me a trail I could _follow?" _Inuyasha voiced all their frustration. "He can't be that stupid, can he?"

"Bankotsu might have been naïve in the past, Inuyasha, but he was never stupid." Miroku said, his blue eyes troubled. "Remember that he was the leader of the Band of Seven. He managed to win the loyalty of a pack of bloodthirsty killers who all called him their 'Older Brother', even though he was younger than many of them."

"Not all their loyalty." Inuyasha replied darkly. "Remember Renkotsu."

Kagome shuddered, hugging Shippou tighter with renewed fear. She had never, ever, thought to see any of the Band of Seven alive again. Could that mean more of them had been resurrected than just Bankotsu?

"Inuyasha…" She said slowly. "Do you think any of the other members of the Band of Seven could be alive again? Resurrected? Like Bankotsu?"

"I don't know, Kagome." Inuyasha's answer was grave. A clawed hand came to rest on the hilt of his Tetsusaiga, drawing comfort from the fanged gift of his father as he had always done in times of uncertainty.

"But Naraku is dead, Kagome!" Shippou wailed, scared by an even greater threat. "Isn't he?"

"Yes, Shippou, he is." Miroku said, his bead-wrapped palm clenching into a fist. "I would know if Naraku were ever resurrected. For right now, we must assume that only Bankotsu has come back to life, until and unless we see proof otherwise. But he seemed to be acting alone last night, attacking you and Sango like he did. That is not like him---at least not from what I know of him."

"Yeah." Inuyasha slowly agreed with great reluctance, looking at Kirara's sad, glowing eyes. "But that still doesn't tell us where he took Sango."

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"Sorry, I don't have anything better to offer you." Bankotsu said with a rueful grin, holding out half the dried jerky in his possession. "I have some dried apricots, though."

She was giving him that look again. That look that said she thought he was crazy. Strange how expressive her eyes were, once you thought about it. She was pretty good at keeping her facial expressions pretty closed, but she hadn't quite mastered the knack with her eyes---which also happened to be a pretty shade of brown. Like dark mahogany. Or maybe like powdered cinnamon. They seemed to change tints with her moods.

Right now, they were pretty dark. Which meant she was wary of him again. Man, she was strung as tight as a bow. She should just relax, couldn't she see he was trying to take care of her with what little he had to offer? She had acted all weird when he explained it to her, and she had never really answered his question when he asked her what he was _supposed_ to be doing with her.

Bankotsu frowned. He had never taken a hostage before, never even thought about it, really. The situation had never come up. True, he and his men had been hired in the past to abduct this daimyo lord or that, but they had always done the job and handed them over, not caring what the hell their employer did with the goods---or people---afterwards. Even then, they hadn't done it all that much. Their primary skills were in how good they were at killing, and they had been _very_ good at that.

So how the hell was he supposed to know how to treat a hostage? It was not like it had ever come up before. The only people he had ever hung around for more than a day or two were his brothers, and he had always taken care of them, saw to their needs, saw that they were fed and relatively content. A unhappy, hungry man didn't fight all that well, and besides, he was their 'aniki', after all. Who else would have cared for them, if not him?

So what else was he supposed to do but treat this ninja-girl like he would one of his own men? Of course, she wasn't one of his men, and he knew that. She was a girl, and he could admit he didn't know very much about women in general. Didn't really care to, truth be told. He had never seen much use for them, past a quick tumble or two. Most of them were too weak to really fight all that good, and how could he ever respect that?

So she was his hostage. Okay, well, he didn't want her to slow him down or get on his nerves with a weepy woman's complaints. He still needed to think of a good enough spot to take that stupid hanyou out, and until he decided, he would have to keep the girl with him. So maybe she didn't really choose to be his 'guest', but hell, that was what she was.

He was getting irritated with her again. It was that look she kept giving him. He had thought about waiting until morning to go out to the village to get a few things he could sure use, but now seemed like as good a time as any. Maybe if she spent some time alone she would start appreciating what he was trying to do for her. It wasn't as if she could go anywhere, and maybe if she became resigned to that fact, she would quit acting so strung out and start to relax.

Decision made, he abruptly stood up. He hadn't thought she could get any more rigid, but she had proved him wrong. She looked so stiff that he was afraid she would shatter if he so much as looked cross-eyed at her.

Heaving a gusty sigh, he dropped the small pouch of food in the straw in front of her, placing the jerky on top so she would know what it was. It would be up to her to feed herself. He wasn't about to force-feed her dried apricots. She'd choke, and then where would he be?

Picking up his Banryuu, he saw her tense even more. Amazing. He could imagine hearing her bones nearly creaking she was so still. One of the horses in the other stalls snorted at the tension that fairly crackled in the air. That had the girl shying back like she was shot. Man, she was twitchy. Typical woman, scared of their own shadow.

"I'm going out." He said, impatient. "Don't think you can escape, however. I'm putting a barrier over this place, and you shouldn't even try getting past it. It burns."

With that fond farewell, he sauntered out the door.

This barn was perfect as a hideout, as least temporarily. The goats and horses, not to mention the chickens, gave off enough of a stench that he didn't think that half-dog would be able to sniff their location out. The peasant-family who owned this place weren't alive to object to his use of it, and no one else had come around to investigate what might have happened to them, so he thought they would remain undetected, at least for the night.

Tilting his sword up on his shoulder, Bankotsu carefully pried loose one of the three Jewel shards that now decorated the half-moon end of the hilt. These little fuchsia beauties had proved their worth time and time again. There was a convenient splintered knot in the door he had just slammed closed behind him, and he carefully wedged the diamond-cut shard into the gap. A sullen glow rose over the wooden structure, incasing it in a bubble of protection that few would be able to see, but all would feel as a sharp, burning sensation if they tried to cross it.

"That'll hold you for a while." He said with satisfaction, turning to go.

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Sango wasn't about to sit by and take his word for it. Once the door to the barn slammed shut, she crawled across the straw and stuck her head around the stall's partition. Counting breaths, she waited until she heard the fall of footsteps fade before lurching to her feet.

Her ankle had swollen even more since last night…or was it yesterday? She couldn't put much weight on it, but she wasn't about to let that stop her. Limping her way across the low building, she glanced into each stall, looking for anything she might be able to use as a weapon. Her nose wrinkled at the smell as she neared the goat-pen. How long had it been since these animals had been shut up in here? The stench of acquired manure was strong, though the three nannies who naahed at her sudden appearance didn't seem to be standing in their own. There were two horses kept in separate stalls at the end, old nags who simply swiveled their ears at her. One of them was covered in an old blanket like the one she had woken up with. Both horses had plenty of hay in their feedboxes, so maybe it wasn't that long since someone had cared for them…

With quick glimpses, she ascertained that there was nothing left in the barn except for her and the animals. Hoping to find even a short stick of wood to use as a cudgel, she had foolishly leaned past a small partition and got pecked for her pains by the offended chicken who roosted there. Muttering darkly under her breath about how good chicken was when cooked fresh, Sango lurched back away from the evil bird's nest and nearly fell over something that rolled under her foot.

Instinctively, she tried to catch her balance with her left ankle, and that was how she ended up on her bottom. Gritting her teeth, both at the sharp stab of agony sent throbbing up her leg and at her own clumsiness, she groped for the damn object with her bound hands to throw it, needing a release for her frustration.

But, blinking, she smiled at her luck. It wasn't much, just a rusty bit that had been probably sitting here for years, abandoned and forgotten. But it was better than nothing, and a solid weight in her palm. She could easily hide it in her fist, and that would add quite a bit of impact. Now, she would just have to find a way to use it…

But better still would be to get the hell out of here before Bankotsu came back. With that thought in mind, she lurched back up on her feet and made her way to the door. She wasn't about to just open it and find herself face to face with that lunatic, though, so she used a convenient knothole in the wooden boards beside it to peer out.

And jerked back at the strange sight that met her eye. Frowning, she looked again, and grimaced. Sure enough, there was a fuchsia-tinged barrier swirling sullenly just outside. It reminded her of the one Naraku had often used, though there was no purple or blackened streaks running through the pink surface. Biting her lip, Sango thought rapidly about her options.

Maybe she could find a weak point, if she were able to see more of it. Slipping her rusty prize into a fold of her sash, she twisted her hands around inside the restraining rope so that her sprained right one would not get it her way. Extending her fingers, she gently, but firmly pushed on the wood of the door to open it a crack.

And snatched back her hand with a curse.

The door had _burned._

Hissing at this new pain, which was sending fresh throbs up her arms and making her break out into a cold sweat, Sango was finally ready to give up---temporarily, anyways. Lurching back to her own stall, she dropped down on the blanket with a defeated sigh. Too tired to even pull it up around her---even if either of her hands were able to do something so simple right now---she simply laid her head on her knees and waited for Bankotsu's inevitable return.

So much for being independent. Now would have been a _great_ time to ask for some help from one of her friends.

_Kagome…Inuyasha…Miroku…where are you?_

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He had to step over a dead body to get to the jug he wanted. Ignoring the dried blood on the small table, he hefted the jug and grinned when he heard the slosh of liquid within. Good. He could use some sake. Spying a few other things lying around the small hut, he quickly added them to the knapsack slung over his shoulder. Jug in hand, he nonchalantly stepped back over the corpse that lay across the doorway and exited the cot.

It was only a few yards to the barn, and he casually dropped jug and bundle to remove the Jewel shard from the crack in the door. The barrier slowly dissolved as he carefully placed it back in his halberd's hilt. Picking up his loot, he kicked open the door.

It was dark inside. The sun was setting in a blaze of ocher splendor, lighting up in reddened flame against the clouds that curled lazily beneath it. He had nipped a simple rush-light saucer from the hut though---the dead peasant wouldn't be needing it, _that_ was for sure---so he wouldn't have to stumble around in the dark. Dropping his loot again, he pulled the simple brass saucer free and used flint to spark a flame on the wick.

One of the goats nagged at him as the orangey-glow bounced shadows around the small space. One of the horses whickered uneasily, its eyes rolling back. Ignoring them, Bankotsu stalked toward the last stall, where he had left the girl. Funny, he hadn't heard one peep from her. Suspicious, he carried light and halberd to the back of the barn, where he stopped and stared down at her.

She sat against the wall where he had left her, though on the blanket and not under it. She had drawn her knees up to her chest, and had her head resting on them. The loose tangles of her hair covered her back and shoulders and hid her face from view. He should have been wary, what was she hiding from him? But something in the defeated line of her slumped shoulders made him think she wasn't up to no good, but that something about her wasn't okay.

Damn. He hoped she wasn't getting sick or something.

"Hey, you okay?" He asked her. She didn't answer, didn't even raise her head up to acknowledge him. She wasn't sleeping, he could tell by the uneven tone of her breathing. Damn, he hoped she wasn't _crying._

Grimacing at the thought, he carefully leaned his companion against the far wall and stuck the rush-light on top of the low partition. Crossing his arms over his chest, he stared down at her, unsure what to do. So he did what he had. "Are you okay?"

Silence.

"Hey." He nudged her with one foot to get her attention.

"Leave me alone."

Well, at least she wasn't dead. He wasn't about to, though, not when something definitely had to be wrong. And he was a persistent bastard when he cared to be.

"You okay?"

"I'm fine." She bit that out while keeping her head down. Bankotsu frowned, suspicious.

"Are you crying?" Ugly thought.

She finally looked up, her face pale, angry, but dry. "No, I'm not. Can't you just leave me alone?"

"No." He grinned at her, glad to see she wasn't all drippy-eyed. "You don't seem okay." He eyed her speculatively, and noticed that her bare arms in the short-sleeved yukata were goose-bumped. He also noticed she hadn't touched the food he'd left her.

"Why didn't you eat while I was gone?" He asked with irritation, having thought she would.

She put her head back down on her knees with a sigh. "I'm not hungry."

"You're cold." He replied.

"I'm fine."

"No, you're not---or why are you shivering?" Man, she was stubborn! Did he have to order her to take care of herself? This was more trouble than it was worth, but he had often dealt with ornery men who thought they knew better than he did what was best for them.

"I'm fine."

So they were back to that, were they? Wanting to growl, Bankotsu glared instead. He wasn't about to spend all night arguing with her. And he wasn't about to let her think she had won the argument by simply ignoring her. If she wanted to act as stubborn as a mule, then he would just have to treat her as he would a mule and just make her do what she didn't want to.

Quick as a flash, he grabbed her dangling wrists by the rope he had loosely, if securely, tied around them, intending to pull her to her feet and off the horse-blanket so that he could toss it over her. But she let out a short cry of pain, and he immediately stopped tugging. Cradling her bound wrists, she said nothing, but the shivering got worse.

Huh.

Kneeling down in front of her, he gently grabbed for her hands again. She tried to tug them out of his, but he was stronger. Firmly, he pulled them over so he could examine them in better light. A sprained wrist shouldn't have made her so damn twitchy. He had to suck in his breath, though, when he saw the raw burns on her left palm.

Ow. That had to hurt.

"You tried to escape, didn't you?" He shook his head at her. Stubborn wench. Well, he had warned her and it was her own damn fault if she decided not to listen. Still, that had to hurt like a bitch, and she was just damn lucky he knew how to treat minor skin burns like this. Renkotsu had gotten quite a few of them before he had learned to be more careful with his fire-water…

The thought of that traitorous bastard made him scowl and drop her hands back in her lap. Standing, he ignored the stupid girl to go and retrieve the loot he had left at the door. Dragging the sake jug with him, he pilfered through the first while taking a good swig of the second. The sake was pretty hard, and it burned down the back of his throat. But it distracted him enough to be able to deal with the stubborn wench, and having found the small herbal pack he had got from the village, he was able to stalk back over to her in a more equitable mood.

Not that she didn't try and ruin it again.

Flopping down in front of her with pack in lap, he tried to grab her hands again. She tried to avoid his touch. Eyes darkening, he finally got a hold of her left wrist, and pulled. She glared at him, her lips set in a thin white line. He ignored her to pull a small dagger from where it lay hidden in the back of his obi. She stiffened, and tried to wrench her hands free.

"Damn it, wench! Do you want me to help you or not?" He finally growled at her, blue eyes glaring into dark brown. "That burn is raw. You want to get it infected?"

She looked as if she might be entertaining the thought.

"Won't work." He said, suddenly feeling more amused than angry. Wow, she was stubborn---almost as stubborn as he was. That was pretty impressive.

He grinned at her. She gave him that 'you're crazy' look.

Quickly using her distraction as a diversion, he cut through the rope binding her wrists and sheathed his dagger back in his obi with a deft twist. She now looked bewildered, and he used her continued confusion to force open her fingers by pressing on the pulse-joint in her left wrist. Examining her opened palm in the sputtering candlelight, the burn wasn't as bad as he thought, and it would probably scab over in a few days. Still, it must hurt like a son of a bitch.

She stayed quiet, much to his relief, though her expression was dark. He was lucky glares couldn't kill, he'd have been roasted alive by now. Shrugging, he filched the burn ointment from the herbal pack in his lap. Opening the jar one-handed was awkward, but he didn't want to let go of her hand. Scooping up a big dollop of the stinky yellow cream with a finger, he gently smoothed it over the raw edges on her palm.

She jerked in surprise, and then suddenly seemed to relax the tiniest bit as the cooling aloe in the ointment numbed away the pain. He hid a grin, knowing how good that stuff was for getting rid of the hurt, even if it would later turn itchy and make you want to scratch the hell out of it as the skin healed itself beneath the dried goop. With generous abandon, he smoothed the thick cream across her palm and fingers, being careful to keep his touch light and gentle against the tender skin. He didn't want her socking him in the head with her free fist as Renkotsu had once done when he'd been too rough that one time down in Kawachi province…

She had stilled beneath his gentle ministrations, and she looked confused, her brown eyes lightening to a mix of cinnamon and hazel. At least she had stopped glaring daggers at him. Ignoring her, he pulled free some clean bandaging from the well-stocked pack and used it to wrap her palm and fingers into a mitten that would keep movement to a minimum but left her thumb and index fingers free so she could still use her hand, if carefully.

Now that he was done with the left, he turned his attention to the right. He had noted the bruised swelling of the wrist yesterday, which is why he had bound her wrists not as taut as he might have. But she had acted as if the pain were still sharp, when it should have been receding a little by now. She allowed him to take hold of her lower right arm without comment, though she hissed as he extended the last two fingers of her hand, twitching her wrist with the movement.

She had a bone bruise then, on the outer edge. The bruising was dark there, an angry purple-black stain flowering against the yellow-green of the older bruise. She had fallen on it, maybe, bruising it further. Maybe when she had tried to touch the barrier and got burned for her pains. Smirking with superiority at the girl's stubborn stupidity, he bandaged it much as he had the other, though with tighter bindings, so that it would heal all the faster.

He finally let her have her hands back and she just let them drop in her lap. Her expression was bland, but her eyes spoke volumes. She didn't know what to say, and was giving him that wondering, you-_must_-be-crazy look. It made him grin as he casually tapped her bare knee with a finger.

"Foot." He explained as she stared at him.

He had to sigh when the stubborn wench didn't move.

Curving his thumb and finger over her knee, he squeezed on the pulse-points and she nearly toppled over as her leg automatically jumped in reaction. Jerking her leg forward, he studied the bruise on her ankle as her face went through several interesting shades of blush. The ninja girl had surprisingly small feet, in comparison to the rough men he had tended in the past, with a high arch and hardened heel from walking around so much. Flexing the ankle, he didn't think it needed binding, and shrugged.

"Seems okay." He said, wrapping up the medical kit. Getting up, he went over to the abandoned knapsack and rummaged through it. Pulling a second satchel from the bag, he hauled the wine jug with him and settled back down in front of her.

She had drawn her knees up again, resting her bandaged hands on her knees and just staring at him. She wasn't one for much conversation, was she? But then, she could be hungry. He certainly was, and he, at least, had eaten earlier in the day.

Undoing the knotted ties, he pulled open the sack and hauled out the carefully wrapped wooden bowl of steamed rice. He wasn't much for cooking, and although it would be cold now, it was at least edible---and better than dried jerky. The peasant's wife had added some bits of vegetable and fish to it, assuring him it could be easily reheated. He wasn't about to waste time starting a fire, even if he was stupid enough to kindle one in the middle of a barn full of thick straw. The girl would just have to eat it cold.

The old woman had even included some simple chopsticks, and Bankotsu fiddled with them before selecting a particular piece of baked salmon and pulling it free with the motion of long practice. Holding it out to her, he waited for her open her mouth so he could pop it in.

She just stared at him.

Damn, but she was slow.

"Are you going to eat or what?" He scowled at her, finally growing impatient.

"What do you think---"

_Ha!_

He quickly cut her off by shoving the fish into her opened mouth. Her eyes widened as her mouth snapped shut. But she swallowed his offering and he speared a second, ready for her to open back up and start protesting.

But she didn't. Instead they sat there, with her glare finally making him glare, and not getting much anywhere with all that glaring going on.

"I want to eat too, you know." He growled.

"Go ahead." She replied, too quick for him to shove another bite between her lips, which were now pressed in a thin, white line of anger.

"You want me to open your jaw and just cram it in?" He asked tightly, blue eyes dangerous. She was more stubborn than anyone he had ever met.

"Try it---muphm."

He managed to get her that time, and she had to chew for a few seconds before she could swallow the large piece. He took a good bite himself, and then offered her a third.

Her eyes were fairly spitting at him. Between gritted teeth, she hissed, "I can feed myself."

Bankotsu cocked a black brow at her. "How?"

Her bandaged hands twitched and she looked ready to kill.

Huh. Kinda sexy, that.

Putting the chopsticks down, Bankotsu hauled the sake jug over so he could take a good swig. Wiping his mouth dry, he grinned. "Do you want to argue all night or are you going to let me take care of you so that we can go in the morning? Because we aren't going anywhere, ninja, until you eat."

Her nostrils flared, but he could already tell he had won when she bit her lip and frowned. Her eyes dropped to rest on the sake jug he held in his hand and she finally said, "As long as I can get a drink of that."

Bankotsu shrugged and helpfully tilted the heavy jug toward her.

Dark eyes flashing, she muttered under her breath, "I'm going to need it."

It was Bankotsu's turn to frown.

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A/N: I loved writing this scene, but this is where I might have made Bankotsu OOC. I have only seen up to episode 120, but it seems that he is quite naïve in many areas. I can't see him being stupid---childish certainly, and cocky as all hell, but there is something seemingly innocent about him when he was touched by Jakotsu's generosity in episode 118/119 and angrily told Renkotsu that he was not like him in 120. For a mercenary, he seems to have a loose moral code of honor. We'll see how that plays out, as Sango's sense of honor is quite high.

Oh---time for a shameless plug---I also finally posted my Kouga fan-art on mediaminer (dot) org. Just a black and white scribble of Kouga while I was chasing plot bunnies for one of my other fics, "The Source of Solace." You can see it (if you want) at h t t p / w w w . m e d i a m i n e r . o r g / f a n a r t / v i e w . p h p / 1 8 7 3 6 8 (just removed the spaces).

Fate


	5. Chapter 5

Disclaimer: I do not own Inuyasha, etc. This story is for entertainment purposes only.

_REDEMPTION_

Summary: Specters of the past bring forth questions for the future. Can she save his soul, or will he wander forever in darkness?

_WORDS_

_hakama - wide-legged pants, worn by both men and women_

_obi - sash_

_buta - pig (I was thinking of the porkly youkai who chased Kohaku in the second movie and used this definition)_

_ningen - human_

_nagajugan - underclothing_

WARNING! DARK IMAGERY AND ADULT TOPICS!

A/N - I have raised the rating to 'M' for the dark topics I bring up in this chapter. I imply one action and describe quite bloodily another. I argued with myself for including this scene, but finally had to give in to my darker plot bunnies, as it provided a new window into Bankotsu's character. On a lighter note, this story has evolved quite nicely, and as real life has finally settled back down to a manageable level, I will not tarry so long in updating the next chapter. Thanks once again for the wonderful reviews…they keep me hyped. XP Fate

_CHAPTER FIVE_

Riding a horse is never comfortable for one who does it rarely. On horseback, one is forced to use muscles typically never stretched if one is used to using one's own two feet to get around.

Sango tried to scowl, tried to look fierce, tried to look calm and composed, unemotional and unaffected. She failed at all of them, finally settling for just looking plain miserable, grimacing as each hoof struck the ground and each muscle was wrenched anew. It didn't help that her left hand was tied to the pommel of the saddle, or that she could not really use her right for balance. Normally it wouldn't make that much of a difference, but it caused her to lean just that _little_ bit extra to the left, making that thigh rub just a little more on the stiffened leather of the ancient saddle Bankotsu had dug up from behind the barn.

They hadn't taken any time to rub down and soften the cracked surface, though Bankotsu had carefully arranged the horse blanket underneath so that the horse wouldn't get any saddle sores from the dried out leather. Sango wished she had spoken up and asked for the same, her thighs without the protection of her nagajugan were rubbed raw. But horrified by the thought of ever mentioning something _that_ immodest, she had kept her mouth shut---and thought wistfully of her silken black armor, which molded to her skin, would have been more than adequate protection against something so trivial as old leather.

It was not like her captor took any notice of Sango's silent misery. Bankotsu sauntered along, giant halberd slung negligently over one shoulder, the horse's lead-reins held loosely in his free hand. He was even humming an old drinking song under his breath, strolling along as if he hadn't a care in the world. Sango had tried glaring at him, to no avail, and now simply hunched down, trying to lessen her movements as much as possible.

So it was with some surprise when she finally realized that they had stopped, and that Bankotsu was looking at her with that quizzical expression. Sango just looked down at him, too tired to even glare as his eyes wandered down her body to where her thin yukata had hiked up past her knee to show a good long glimpse of muscled thigh.

"You're starting to become more trouble than you're worth."

Sango didn't reply, though she thought darkly that he might just let her go and then she wouldn't be such a bother to him. She finally said as much, muttering under her breath, and Bankotsu actually tilted his head back and gave a short, sharp bark of laughter.

Humor much improved, the mercenary casually leaned his Banryuu against the side of the small building they had drawn abreast and tied the sway-backed nag to a handy post that stood out beside the scuffed yard. A couple of rickety benches faced the dirt trace of a road they had been following, though the hostelry seemed deserted right now. It was some time past midday---like Inuyasha, Bankotsu had pressed on through the early afternoon, rather than stopping.

Bankotsu disappeared into the small hut, leaving Sango to sit and ache outside. The horse waggled his ears at her and stamped. Sango winced as the horse shifted his weight to one side, cocking a hoof before lowering his heavy head to drowse in the sun. Sango was envious; it would have been nice to go and nap in the sun, somewhere out in the long grass with nothing but the warmth of the sun's golden kiss upon your cheek…

She nearly fell off as a sharp blade cut through the rope binding her left wrist. Jamming an elbow into Bankotsu's ear was merely an automatic reaction to his sudden appearance, with knife in palm, right next to her. Hearing the solid thud of impact and Bankotsu's curse was most satisfying, though. Sango even managed to smile briefly, before Bankotsu pulled her off the saddle with a scowl and the chafed flesh on her thighs came to screaming life. He tried to set her on her feet, but her feet had gone numb. She was forced to hobble like an old woman, leaning on him for support.

Sango's smile had faded by the time they reached the splintered porch. She had to blink as a gaggle of old women, sounding just like the hens they resembled, and just as bent over as she was right now, swarmed over her. Cackling to themselves, the three women hauled her after them inside the dim hut, leaving Bankotsu behind with two old men who much resembled the women. Sango paused, blinking at the sudden darkness of the shadowy interior, but the women were having none of it. They hauled her along as if she had no choice in the matter, and she didn't really, with all three of them crowding her past the first two rooms and shoving her into the third.

Sango's face burned as the women made scolding noises over the state of her inner thighs. The women didn't pay any mind to her rather acute embarrassment over the whole situation, but Sango was more than grateful after the three hens had soothed salve over the raw burns and massaged some of the stiffness from her muscles. Wrapping their ministrations with tight bandaging, they then helped her into a pair of clean, if ragged, pair of peasant's hakama. The wide-legged cloth might have once been blue, but had faded with many washings until it was now a more of a faded blue-gray. The fabric was worn thin and the edges were fraying, but the fabric was soft on her skin. They laughed and scolded at her, making fun of her rather odd outfit of ragged short-pants and wrinkled yukata. She tried to thank the women, who all grinned toothlessly back at her and made bows and just cackled among themselves. Their dialect was strange, maybe it was their accent or her exhaustion, but she didn't recognize their words.

They forced her to eat a bowl of strange noodles and fish, and to take a cupful of sour sake that made her make such a face that it set them all off again, mimicking her pursed lips and screeching with laughter. Patting her shoulders, which was as far as they could reach when Sango finally stood up, more than ready to go, they escorted her back outside---this time under her own power, having recovered her strength enough to walk herself out.

She ignored Bankotsu's grin at her odd appearance, instead going over to stand by the drowsing nag with as much dignity as she could muster. She noticed that the old saddle had been removed, and a simple affair of blanket and harness put in its place. The horse opened one eye and snorted as Bankotsu came up beside them.

Sango was in complete agreement.

"Can we go now?" Bankotsu was impatience itself. Sango thought longingly of her Hiraikotsu. How nice it would be to wipe that smirk off his damn face with the broadside of her boomerang. She took heart in the thought of the small bit of metal still hidden in her obi. Once they were camped and the mercenary's guard was down, she'd be able to take him out with a good, quick knock over the head. Almost unconsciously, she flexed the wrapped fingers of her left hand. They didn't hurt as much as they had yesterday, she might even be able to put her plan in action tonight…

With that delightful thought, Sango allowed Bankotsu to toss her over the horse's withers and even submitted without complaint as he re-secured her left hand to the reins, as there was no pommel on the blanket arrangement. She wondered what the peasants must think about all this, but they just huddled on the porch, nodding and smiling. One of the men called out to Bankotsu in their strange language, and he surprised her by answering in the same---an answer that had them all shrieking with laughter, even the women.

Sango just glared.

Bankotsu flashed her a cheeky grin before grabbing the reins and vaulting up on the horse behind her. The horse backed up a pace as Sango stiffened in shock. The look on her face sent the old folks into a new screech of laughter as Bankotsu shifted his weight, sidling the horse closer to the wall where his Banryuu was propped like so much discarded lumber.

Bankotsu leaned over and lifted the giant halberd with one hand. With some deft twists that had Sango's cheeks flaming, he secured the giant weapon across the right side of the horse, who didn't appreciate having the weapon hanging off its side the length of its wither to its tail, though he somehow didn't seem bothered by its weight. Bankotsu patted the sword fondly before gathering up the reins in his left hand and hauling Sango closer to him with his right.

"What do you think you are doing?" Sango hissed under her breath, not liking the intimacy of this situation one bit. Even Miroku had never dared sit _this_ close to her when riding Kirara---he wouldn't have lived long after trying.

"I'm making sure my nervous young bride doesn't run away from me again." He replied in a nonchalant whisper that feathered warmth across her ear.

_"What!"_

With a cocky grin, Bankotsu tightened his grip on his sputtering 'bride', hauling her closer to him, and kneed the plodding horse into a ground-eating lope. The grinning choir of old peasants, who waved and called out encouragements in their strange tongue, laughing at their own jokes, soon disappeared behind them.

Sango thought darkly of how many ways there was to kill a man---even a twice dead, thrice reincarnated mercenary…

_5555555555555555_

Bankotsu believed in expediency. Although it would have been nice to stop for the night and rest, he rejected the idea. The hanyou's sensitive nose was sure to pick up their trail---eventually---at the dead peasant's farm, and it would be easy for him to follow their ambling path from there. His path had been deliberate; he had finally made up his mind and decided on the perfect place to lure the half-dog to.

Stopping at Kyoukotsu's parents' hostel had been a bit foolish, perhaps, but he had been feeling a little sentimental this morning. Perhaps it was the girl's presence, although she could in no way physically resemble or remind him of his former band, there was something in having a presence there with him, someone he needed to look out for and take care of---not to mention keep in line, a thought that had him grinning---that had made him think of the good old days, back when they were all together and before all that stupid mess had started about shed blood meaning more to them than pay earned…

Kyoukotsu's former home hadn't been too far off the path for him to amble on over and drop by for a visit. He hadn't really thought the idea through, however, and had had to come up with a quick excuse when Kyoukotsu's old mother had demanded to know just who the girl was, trussed to his saddle like a sack of rice. Thank the Boils that he'd always been able to think quick on his feet, and had brushed it off with the rather dubious explanation that the girl was his bride---and a shy, reluctant one at that. One who didn't know how much she _truly_ loved him, and had run away because of her own maidenly foolish fears. That had sent Kyoukotsu's family shrieking into laughter, delighted that he, who they had always regarded rather fondly (having accepted their dead son as he was with no judgment or preconceived bigotry just because he was a big tower of a boy with a face like hard granite and a head thicker than it was big), that he, cocky Bankotsu, was now being led around by the nose by a slight waif of a girl in a dirty yukata.

Bankotsu had taken their teasing with wry equanimity, secretly smirking at the thought of what the ninja-girl would think of his little lie. Well, he had certainly found out, and he was damn lucky she was all but useless right now in a fight, or he would have been chopped up fine and served fresh with his own Banryuu as the paring knife---if the strength of the ninja's glare was any judge.

She wasn't glaring now, in fact she wasn't doing much of anything but lying slumped against him, her head bowed and wobbling around like a paper-hung festival lantern blown about in the wind each time the horse's heavy footfalls struck the hard-packed dirt of the road beneath them. Her position couldn't be too comfortable, and she'd awaken with a damn crick in her neck if she kept nodding off like that. But she was too exhausted to do more than stir slightly when he nudged her arm, and so---without thinking much about it---he adjusted her position so that she lay back against him, her head tucked on his shoulder just under his chin. He grinned as her body went limp, supported against his stolid strength.

The horse shook its head at the movement, snorting to itself, but showed no sign of weariness. It shouldn't---he had wedged one of the Jewel shards from his sword's hilt just under the saddle pad, willing vigor into the animal. As far as he knew, a single shard's strength was inexhaustible and its power only restricted by how weak the will that applied it---something that would never hinder Bankotsu, who had often been accused of being _too_ willful…

The Shikon shards only needed to be directed to be oh-so-very helpful. Only one of the fuchsia-tinged little beauties was needed to keep the horse plodding on through the night, unaffected by the length of their journey or the weight of two riders and his beloved Banryuu---though Bankotsu had used a second shard to lighten the heavy weight of his halberd so that it weighed no more than the slim katana the ninja-girl usually wore.

A faint scent in the girl's tangled tresses tickled at his nose, and Bankotsu smirked at the fading scent of perfumed flowers. It had been a couple of days since he had watched the girl bathe in the hot spring, and she had slept in a stable, rode leagues on a horse and had had various bruised parts of her immersed with the stinging scent of medicinal herbs and salve. Amazing that he could detect anything else on her, but he liked the faint hint of flowers that rose from her heavy black hair.

She was a study, that was for certain. She fitted quite well in his arms, her body nestled into his wasn't that intrusive, and he rather liked her there---which should have surprised the hell out of him, but didn't. Funny, that.

He had to give her some grudging respect---she hadn't sniffled once---at least, not to his knowledge. She hadn't been the most cooperative, truth be told, but at least she hadn't hounded him with a million and one whining complaints or chattered away at him like some brainless fool as some women were wont to do. She was stubborn as all hell, which might have gotten on another man's nerves fast, but it just made him grin and think her worthy of the challenge held in that oft-times glaring mahogany-cinnamon gaze…

The reins, held loosely in one hand, jerked slightly as the horse abruptly stopped dead in the middle of the road, its body tensing and its ears pricked forward. Bankotsu did not try to kick the horse on as some fools might have, instead he tensed as well, trusting the animal's superior instincts in the darkened shadows of the night. Horses were grazers, often prey, and had a couple thousand years of experience in saving their own ass. He trusted the nag to give him better warning than even the Jewel shards---which weren't even glowing at the potential proximity of a demonic aura.

It was ningen, then, and not youkai.

A reedy scream whispered on the chill-laden breeze that suddenly sprang up. The night-ridden forest trembled, whispering darkly to itself as distant shouts of anger and triumph reached Bankotsu, who strained his attention to the path ahead, which curved into shadow that even the weak light of the waning moon could not penetrate. Skeletal arms entwined thickly overhead by the creaking trees, who rustled their own moans of discontent as the wind circled through them.

The horse snorted and shifted under the sudden tightening of his legs on its girth. The scream was thin now, threadlike and then abruptly cut off. Expression darkening, Bankotsu urged the horse forward even as his limp burden suddenly awoke, apprehension jerking her upright.

"What…?" He was pleased that she at least whispered that question in breath too low to be carried, rather than shouting it at him in confusion.

He shrugged, though his dark eyes glittered. He could guess, however, and he wasn't often wrong. Not many would stir on a night as dark as this, and any who would were probably either desperate or up to no good. This territory just above the western coast was not much settled, the land being too rocky for good farming, and the cliffs often too steep for easy fishing. No daimyo claimed this wild land at the moment, and what lesser lords of the samurai did not claim, others, less titled if no less predatory, were willing to stake a share of what little spoil or sport there was for a poorly settled land to offer.

Using the Jewel shards he had collected in his own flesh, he enhanced his hearing ten-fold. Catching the faint, smug words on the rising wind made him frown---he had surmised as much from the tenor of the reedy scream that had been abruptly cut off. Certain now, he tightened his grip on the ninja and kicked the unwilling horse into a broken canter.

The ninja said nothing, though she looked grim. Bankotsu's attention was not on her, though, but on the winding road ahead. Reaching the crest of the tree-marched rise, he yanked the horse to a stop, surveying the widened clearing ahead and below them with grim appraisal.

The trees thinned below, and the wispy clouds followed suit, allowing weak moonlight to filter into the cleared roadside, as if to helpfully reveal the bitter, too often familiarly re-telling of an old tale beneath them.

The girl held in his arm gasped, anger threading her surprise.

Bankotsu was inured to surprise, he had seen too much to ever be surprised by much.

There was three of them; rough, dirty men whose armor fitted ill and consisted of bits stolen here and there from weaker warriors than they. It was obvious that they were the sort of lowly bandit scum who preyed on the weakest of all, robbing poor peasants of their scanty harvest, lying in wait to ambush the lone traveler who just happened to fall into their lap, grabbing pennies where other, more able bands would go after gold or silver.

The bandits were so sotted with their own power that they hadn't noticed them perched on the ridge above. The hoarse boasts traded back and forth between the three made Bankotsu sneer, even as the ninja hissed in horrified anger upon seeing the limp body lying to one side of the road, the clothes torn and the bared body pale in the wan moon's shadows. One of the men hawked and spat in the dead woman's direction, adjusting his hakama with casual contempt.

"Bony whore, she was! I've lain better with old---" He stopped to stare behind him in dumbfounded astonishment, having heard the distinctive scrape of steel being drawn.

Bankotsu, halberd in hand, dismounted in a single, easy movement. The horse shied as the giant sword swung over its head, but the ninja-girl reined it to a standstill. Her expression was closed and still, but her dark eyes darted back and forth between the three men below and the mercenary who was going to confront them, as if not quite knowing what the mercenary would do, or even thought to do.

Bankotsu slowly slipped the silken sheath from his halberd with deliberate care. The steel gleamed in the faint moonlight, more promise than threat. He caressed the wide blade with a fond little smile before turning his attention back on the three bandits below. They gaped stupidly at him as he asked with casual nonchalance, "Now, then. I'm giving you a choice. Tell me---how do you want to die?"

_5555555555555555_

Sango hadn't believed her ears. Neither had the bandits---they had all started laughing at the lone mercenary as if it were all a great joke. But they hadn't laughed long, for Bankotsu had soon jumped down into the clearing to teach them that it was better to run from him in screaming terror than to just sit there in disbelief, stunned lambs for the slaughter.

Sango shivered. The look on Bankotsu's face had brought home dark memories of a time not so long past when she and her friends had faced that particularly disturbing expression of unholy joy in dark blue eyes at the thought of the coming of battle and the spilling of fresh blood…

_The killing rage of the rabid._

The men had scattered before that sneering fury, though their abortive flight was in vain. Bankotsu followed them into the brush, leaving Sango alone---and mounted. Her first thought had been delight at the unlooked-for opportunity thus presented. But even as she kneed the horse around, to make good her own escape, her gaze fell on the limp body below, abandoned like so many rags in the clinging weeds beside the road.

Cursing her own better nature, which could not leave the woman to lie there alone to whim and weather, Sango turned the horse back around and urged it over the hill in a clatter of loose gravel. Snorting, the nag obeyed, but sidled as they drew near the unconscious woman. Sango slid awkwardly off the horse, the task made harder by the fact that her left wrist had been tied to the knotted reins. The horse didn't like having his lead yanked over his head but Sango wasn't putting up with any of his nervous antics as he tried to sidle away from the limp bundle of rags. Sango crouched over the woman to check for a pulse, but her extended fingers froze. The wide slash from ear to ear spoke the poor woman's end too clearly to be ignored. Sango closed her eyes for a moment, fighting back nausea.

She had seen plenty of dead bodies before, many of them in far mangled a state than this poor, ravished woman. But the obscenity of them having come too late, the stark bruises of hard use on the pale flesh and the grim reality that the poor woman had died in fear and torment, and at the hands of _men_ and not youkai, all warred within her to make her tremble with the sudden rise of red-hot anger and bitterness that welled up in her mind even as the bile rose up in her throat at the tragic betrayal of it all.

Sango could not help it, hunching over, she lost what little there was in her stomach. The horse jerked back, snorting at the disturbing smell of blood and vomit, and stamped uneasily as Sango hauled on the reins in admonishment. Taking a deep, shuddering breath, the taijiya paused for a long moment to regain her composure. Crawling back over to the dead woman, she paused to cover the naked flesh with the rags of the girl's torn clothing. The girl's face was thankfully shadowed in darkness as clouds once again wheeled lazily across the moon's wan face.

Getting shakily to her feet, she took a deep breath and turned away. Limping to the horse's side, she grasped the saddle pad, and froze as she caught sight of the mercenary who stood watching her, his expression still and eyes dark, with halberd slung casually over one shoulder.

Expression tightening, Sango turned her face away. Had he watched her then, while she retched in the weeds at the sight of such a grim and hopeless end? Did he think her weak and unworthy for that weakness? Should it even matter to her, when he was of much the same ilk as what he had just chased down and slaughtered, too damn late to make any damn difference to the ravaged woman who now lay dead just beyond them?

The rage and frustration, barely held at bay, welled up again, and she whipped her head back around to snarl at him. "Why do you stare at me, bandit? Has your bloodlust not been sated? Do you wish to ravage and kill me as well, thinking I might be as easy prey as that poor girl?"

The anger and contempt in her hard voice was met with heavy silence. With a snarl of rage, Sango yanked the poor horse around, so that she might mount with her good wrist. She didn't care if Bankotsu tried to stop her, she could not bear his presence and what he stood for, who and what he _was_ at the moment. Her fury was too overwhelming for sense---a chilling realization to her who had been trained from childhood to know that allowing unbridled emotion to rule one's thoughts was the quickest way to get one dead.

She didn't give a damn. She just wanted to _leave._

He was there in a breath's moment, a strong, calloused hand curving over hers where it rested on the saddle pad, gripping the pommel so that she could mount. With an inarticulate sound, she aimed a vicious jab at his elbow, uncaring of what damage she might due to her bruised, right wrist, only wanting to make him let go of her other hand on the saddle. He caught her fist in a surprisingly gentle, though firm, grip, and he stared down at her.

"Don't. You're still in shock."

Her eyes spat at him, even as her lips curled back over her gritted teeth in a snarl of angry denial. She didn't waste energy on trying to struggle out of his grip, instead she hissed, "Let go of me, bandit."

Something flashed in his dark eyes. "I am no _bandit, _ninja."

It was too much, and she was beyond caring. "I am no ninja, _idiot."_

You could have heard a pin drop in the sudden stillness.

But Bankotsu abruptly relaxed, and she stared uncomprehending as white teeth flashed in a sudden smile, and he laughed.

The idiot was crazy.

"Damn, you've got spunk!"

Still angry, Sango tried to jerk away from him, but the horse decided to shy, nickering uneasily as its nostrils flared. Laying its ears back, it rolled its eyes and danced between them. Bankotsu whirled as a sudden stench flowed across the clearing and a sullen, red-tinged glow sprang from the half-moon hilt of his sword where it lay blade-sunk in the earth behind him.

"Youkai." He growled.

Sango made a face at the distinctive stench. "Buta."

The cowardly pigs were coming to scavenge what they could from the recent dead. Buta such as these were disdained by other youkai, being stupid cowards who slunk behind others, waiting for the opportunity to steal what they could, much as carrion crows would circle round an abandoned field of battle. They only attacked what they thought was weaker than they, and would often retreat without a fight if they saw it was not so.

"They will not attack us," Bankotsu's hand curled over his sword's hilt, easily pulling it free from the earth where he had thrust it, "just hover until we leave."

"We can't leave." Sango protested, without thinking.

"Why not?" Bankotsu demanded.

"They're youkai." She replied, the trained slayer in her shocked at his casual ignorance of so simple a fact.

"So?" Bankotsu circled around the nervous horse, intending to throw Sango up into the saddle so they could get moving. "They aren't stupid enough to attack us. They want the dead for their dinner, not us."

Sango could not believe how casual he disregarded those dead, three of which had just died at his own bloody hands. But then, how could he have anything but contempt for those who were so like him, who he had just recently slaughtered just because they were merely blocking his way? Why else would he have confronted them, except that maybe in his twisted sick little brain he just couldn't pass up the chance of a little blood-letting when the opportunity presented itself so nicely? But then, following that logic, he should be more than eager to test the length of his sword across the throats of the encroaching buta. She couldn't understand him, he was constantly contradicting what she expected of him, and it was driving her crazy. She couldn't think logically with him staring at her like that, as if it was _she_ who were crazy and not _him_. And so she blurted the first thing that came to her, the true reason she couldn't stand by and just leave the dead to the indignity of foraging scavengers.

"Hasn't she been violated enough?"

Sango's mouth snapped shut, and she mentally cursed herself for letting such emotion show.

_That's just great. Show him how weak you really are, taijiya!_

Bankotsu grimaced. He tilted his head up to look at the cloud-drifting sky, revealing wan moonlight one moment and then filmy grey shadows the next. He sighed gustily, and muttered under his breath, "By the Boils, you are a troublesome wench!"

Sango glared, but stood her ground.

_"Fine." _Bankotsu acted just like a pouting child ordered to go do something he didn't really want to do. Hefting his giant sword up to his shoulder with another long-suffering sigh, he stomped back into the surrounding woods. He paused, though, just before ducking in the woods to look back at her with hooded eyes, "I'm not scum, like those bandits. I'm a _mercenary_. There's a difference. Got that?"


	6. Chapter 6

Disclaimer: I do not own Inuyasha, etc. This story is for entertainment purposes only.

_REDEMPTION_

Summary: Specters of the past bring forth questions for the future. Can she save his soul, or will he wander forever in darkness?

_A/N - I have to warn you, Sango is slightly OOC in one particular line. The curse words I used are not something she would usually say, but they were too funny not to type in. And maybe she would use them, if she were provoked. o-O Who knows? Anywhatever, please take my grateful thanks for the wonderful reviews, and I promise the next chapter is being edited now. (Fate)_

WARNING! DARK IMAGERY AND ADULT TOPICS!

_CHAPTER SIX_

He had half-expected her not to be there when he finally returned to the roadside clearing. She wasn't stupid, and she could have used the ruse of having him go after the stinking buta in order to make her own escape. It didn't worry him all that much, though, since he knew he could easily track her down and end what would be a rather foolish attempt on her part at escaping him, wounded as she was and relying on a tired nag who couldn't journey much further, even with the assistance of a strength-enhancing Jewel shard.

He did not expect to find her on her hands and knees, struggling to gather small rocks to cover the dead woman's body with. She had somehow managed to finally free herself from the reins---or rather, she had untied one of the two leads and looped it up over her freed arm out of the way, while tethering the horse to a nearby tree with the other. The horse raised its head at his approach, grass sticking conspicuously from its mouth, before dismissing him as unimportant and returning to its hungered graze.

The girl looked up, having heard his deliberate stride, but then dismissed him as well, using her bandaged hand to roll another rock on the small pile she had gathered around the corpse. Bankotsu shook his head. She didn't want him to see how much the dead woman affected her, but every action she had made since discovering the body spoke volumes at how much she really cared.

_Stubborn wench._

With a sigh hefty enough to stir the grass at his feet, he once more thrust his beloved Banryuu into the earth. Picking up a rather large, flat rock that lay nestled in the grass beside the dirt road, he hauled it along with him, dumping it beside where the ninja---or rather, the not-ninja---knelt. She looked up at him, mute, her dark eyes hidden, but nodding once in grudging thanks.

Bankotsu snorted. It was probably the only thanks he was likely to get. Kicking pebbles out of his way, he hunted along the sides of the road, gathering stones so they could bury one who was probably long past caring what happened to her earthly remains. Neither of them spoke as the night wearied past and they each piled rocks around the woman until she lay buried, a discarded arrow shaft they had scrounged reused as a simple grave marker. The girl then knelt and prayed as Bankotsu abruptly turned away, not one to give a lick of spit for such nonsense. He was oddly disturbed, however, by the silent fervency with which the girl clasped her dusty hands, head bowed beside the rocky internment.

He busied himself collecting horse and sword, waiting impatiently for the girl to finish. She finally rose, wavering where she stood, clearly exhausted, though she stubbornly refused aid, limping forward and even trying to mount the old nag without help. But it was too much for her weary arms to contemplate, and with a roll of his eyes at the girl's obstinacy, Bankotsu scooped her up and tossed her atop the horse with nary a comment. Taking the remaining lead-rein in hand, he lifted Banryuu, once again wrapped in purple silk, to his shoulder and started back down the road.

The air was cold, now, in the dark hours before dawn. He wasn't tired, but the horse plodded along behind him, the girl keeping upright by steel will alone. He had hoped to make Suikotsu's ruined village by noon; it would have been the perfect place to lure the hanyou to. That village, attacked so many years ago when Suikotsu had plied his trade as a true doctor, before his darker personality as a claw-bearing berserker had emerged amid the flames of his ruined life, was now only a decrepit ruin, but it seemed fitting somehow that he kill that damn half-dog there. It was no worse than any other place he had entertained as perfect for a final confrontation, and closer than most.

He had hoped to get there before the dog started sniffing out his trail, which he had deliberately set trailing along this road, but it looked like he would have to adjust his plans to compensate for the girl's exhaustion. Sighing, he scoured the forest on either side, looking for a hint of a camp he might be able to make for the day, one sheltered enough to help shield their location from the inu hanyou with a little judicious use of the Jewel shards in Banryuu's hilt.

There was a slight break in the trees further on, and Bankotsu caught a glimpse of just exactly what he needed. A small copse of trees sheltered a small clearing just off the road, far enough from the path to not be disturbed but close enough not to lose their way in the dark. The horse's ears pricked forward and he nickered, its plod turning slightly eager as he sniffed out water. Bankotsu grinned as the eager nag crowded him off the road and into the thick brush.

The girl roused herself enough to duck the low-hanging branches. She looked around her in surprise as Bankotsu dropped the rein and leaned his Banryuu against a convenient tree. Leaving the sword with an affectionate little pat, he came back over to help the girl down, taking a moment to unknot the rein tied to her wrist. She was too tired to do much more than stiffen at his unwanted touch, but he ignored the almost automatic reaction to help her stumble over to another tree, where she slumped among the roots, too tired to even care as he went about setting up their impromptu camp.

Pulling the saddle pad and packs from the horse's back, he tossed the blanket in the girl's direction. It was sweaty and stank of horse, but she wasn't in much of a position to complain. He took some time in watering the horse from the small stream that trickled past, pausing to dunk his head a few times in the icy water before refilling his wooden flask. Hobbling the horse close to where it could snatch hungrily at the grass (which it was all too happy to do), he then walked the perimeters of the small copse of trees, carefully planting two Jewel shards in opposite polar ends of the roughly oblong area.

Fuchsia-tinged power gleamed sullenly as he applied his will, using the shards to hide the camp and copse from sight, sound, and scent. A misty veil rose from the planted Jewel fragments to envelop their camp in blurred outlines…to any who sought them, this copse would look like a thick cover of tangle-thorned brush, with no sound or smell to give lie to what their deceived eyes were seeing. It wouldn't work too well for anyone who had True Sight, or for one who really concentrated hard on it, but he could easily deal with any of that sort. What he needed was something to confuse his trail, to give the hanyou pause and to make him doubt where they might be---a temporary solution that would work for now.

Turning back to the clearing, Bankotsu rummaged through the packs for some of the food and salve he had gotten from Kyoukotsu's parents, and made his way over to the girl, only to grin as he found her rolled into the blanket, fast asleep and dead to the world. Shrugging, he went about gathering firewood as the sun's first rays peeked over the unseen horizon. A bird chirped, inquiring, and another answered. The forest stirred around them, though not so much as a fly would be able to cross the misty barrier created by his planted Jewel shards.

As the shadows lightened, Bankotsu set up a cook-fire, though did not light it. The chill air was warming as the sun touched the earth, and it was not needed right now. Checking on the tired horse, who ignored him for the tasty grass that held its attention, he made one last circuit around the perimeter, satisfied with his preparations.

Settling himself across from the huddled girl, he found a comfortable spot on the tree's rough bole to lean against and closed his eyes. He didn't need much sleep, not like the exhausted girl, not now with the Jewel shards to help him, but he was content enough to wait.

_6666666666666666_

It was Kirara who actually found traces of their passage. Not content to wait, the fiery-footed neko had scoured the countryside for miles around as Inuyasha poured over the area inch by humbling inch in ever widening circles, using the hot springs where Sango had disappeared as an axis. He was on all fours, nose in the dirt, when Kirara's distant roar made him jerk up in surprise.

Jumping to his feet, he paused only long enough to shout over his shoulder at his mate, "Kirara has found something," before taking off himself. Leaping to the dense tree-tops, he used their swaying limbs to soar high into the thin-clouded sky. Another roar from the neko, a spark of orange-red fire in the far distance, and he arrowed in on the youkai's position.

Leaving the patchy forest's edge behind, Inuyasha bound over the plowed earth, his forehead wrinkling as the scent of the dusty dead tickled his nose. The small, weathered grey buildings looked lonely and abandoned, and surprisingly untouched for the myriad stench that arose around them. The huddled forms in and around the small hut told a grim tale of heartless slaughter, something easily attributed and quite typical for one of the vicious murderers of the long-dead Band of Seven.

Inuyasha growled, his eyes glowing faintly as he looked around him. Blood had dried in nasty, tale-telling stains, mostly in and around the hut, but there were smaller bodies out in the fields where they had tried to flee, but had been mercilessly cut down before they could escape their dark fate.

It was all so stupid and senseless---slaughtering the innocent for merely gaining the use of a barn. For Sango's scent, and the stench of that rotting corpse from hell, Bankotsu, were all over the abandoned shed. Deserted now, except for one evil little scrawny chicken, who tried to peck at him from behind a partition and got its scrawny neck wrung for its pains (it would be a good addition for dinner, and the hanyou wasn't about to pass up the chance at so easily caught a meal), Inuyasha examined the area closely, noting the myriad hoof-prints that dotted the dried mud of the barn-yard.

Scent told him that the pair had rested here for a while, and that Sango was still living, or had eventually left the farm so, and probably mounted on the back of a horse. Her scent, and Bankotsu's, was strongest in the last stall, though it also bore the distinctive reek of medicinal herbs, which didn't make much sense. Maybe Sango had found something to help herself; a callous murderer like Bankotsu would certainly never take the time to bind up somebody's wounds…

Kirara had followed him inside the barn, sniffing delicately and burying her muzzle in the old straw Sango must have lain on with a heavy, mourn-filled sigh. Inuyasha echoed the sound, for the taijiya was long gone, at least a day or so by now. He debated whether or not to bring Kagome and Miroku here, though he couldn't leave the dead peasants just lying around out there. Besides, they might find something he hadn't, and Kagome was probably chewing nails by now at him having left her so abruptly back in the woods. The day was lengthening and would eventually fade into twilight. It would take him some time to find the faint traces of scent that marked which way Sango and Bankotsu had gone, and it might be better if they all started out fresh in the morning…

With that thought in mind, he started to leave the barn to go fetch his friends. He paused, looking at the red-eyed neko. "You coming, Kirara?"

Kirara raised her big creamy head and just wuffed sadly at him before curling up on the abandoned straw, laying her head on her paws and breathing in the faint whisper of Sango's scent, seeking her own comfort from the fading traces of the girl's proximity. Mouth tightening, Inuyasha nodded sharply and took off for the distant tree-line, determination springing up anew that that thrice-rotted corpse would pay, and pay dearly, for ever daring to take hostage their friend…

_6666666666666666_

Sango tried to remember how blithely unconcerned he had seemed that other morning as they passed by the blood-stained hut. An old man, his skull split, lay face down in the dirt between hut and barn, and another was sprawled across the hut's door. She tired to avert her face upon seeing the smaller bodies that littered the fields further down, and could not believe how causally Bankotsu had gone about saddling one of the two old nags and then throwing her up like she was just another pack, only pausing to tie her good wrist to the pommel so she wouldn't fall off.

He had led the horse past the deserted yard without looking to the right or left, as they passed the huddled remains of the family who had once claimed this small, tidy faming stead as their own. He had left the barn door open, though none of the animals within the small stable had ventured so much as a hoof outside before they left. Bankotsu had sauntered along as if he hadn't a care in the world, his giant sword slung over one shoulder with palm to hilt, the horse's long rein held loosely in the other. Sango had huddled into herself, shivering with more than just the chill of dawn's first light touching across her skin…

She tried to hold the memory of that icy shiver inside of her as her mind betrayed her by bringing up all the different times when the deadly mercenary had shown her some surprising kindness that seemed all the more extraordinary in light of the stark difference there was to when he was acting the cold-blooded killer she preferred.

For she did not like this strange side of Bankotsu, that worried himself over such trivialities as whether or not she had eaten enough, or dirtied the bandages he had so gently, so carefully, wound around her own injuries, concerned himself---however brusquely---with how angry she had been over the dead woman in the forest. For she knew deep down that he, himself alone, would not have gone after the buta merely to ensure a rotting corpse of the already departed was not served up as their next meal. She had no delusions that Bankotsu, of all people, would care one way or another. But he knew _she_ cared, and had gone stalking and bitching after the buta to get rid of them, and for no other reason than that she _did_.

Tonight was yet another example of his strange concern for her welfare. His intention had been to break camp and move on after night fell, having used the daylight to allow her to rest and recover her strength. Sango had been exhausted, and slept for hours, but she still felt tired and worn, as if she had been drained of more than just physical vitality by yesterday's ordeal. She had expected Bankotsu to order her up and on, but he had taken one look at her and turned away with an abrupt shrug, "You don't look so good. We'll stay the night here so you can rest some more."

It just made no sense.

It made her head ache, actually, to even think about it. He was just such a contradiction---so cold and evil one minute, (the remembered delight in his smirking smile upon confronting the three bandits last night could still make her shiver---he had just seemed so thrilled at being given the chance to kill them, so downright _happy!), _and yet so innocently naïve the next…

"You got that weird look on your face again."

Sango blinked, drawing the smelly horse-blanket up around her shoulders. She studied him, or what little there was to be revealed by the flickering dance of orange-spun light from the flames of their fitful fire. The sun had set some time ago, and he had lit the piled brush he had gathered just before moon's rise as the purple shadows enfolded the screening trees of their snug little camp.

His blue eyes were dark and shadowed, as inky as his hair in the orange-cast glow. The midnight hue of his hair was more like Kagome's or Miroku's than her own…a black so dark it appeared almost blue in certain lights, while tints of brown might be picked out among her own heavy tresses---something she had shared with her long-departed brother.

Now why had she thought of _him,_ all a sudden? She had buried Kohaku in the tears of the past, under a grief too raw for her to ever really deal with. Revenge, in the final destruction of Naraku, had assuaged a part of that terrible grief, comforted a bit, perhaps, the soul that was so wearied and lonely now that all that had been kith and clan had departed this earth for the next. It was rare for her to call up the wraiths of the past, especially with something so insignificant as to what shade of tangled black locks they might have shared…

_I do miss him, though. Kohaku…_

His freckled face with its tentative smile wavered across her memory, and she wore her sadness in her eyes for a moment, before the pensive look that always followed it covered the sadness away. Always the question burned her…could she have done more to save him? Kohaku, her poor, innocent little brother…his fate had been sealed the day Naraku had raised him back from the dead, to live a tainted half-life of darkness and betrayal. His shame had been in the calculated corruption of his poor little soul, controlled as he was by the dark hanyou.

_Her_ shame was in never having saved him, even from himself.

_6666666666666666_

"That's a new one." Bankotsu remarked casually as he relaxed against his chosen tree-trunk, idly chewing on a blade of early green grass as he stared at her. The girl sat closer to the fire, which kissed her cheeks in ruddy light and brought out the shadows in her honey-brown eyes.

There sure were a lot of them.

Her brow creased at his words, but then she looked down again, lost in her own thoughts, and started looking even more apprehensive. It was _that_ look which had aroused Bankotsu's comment, and it was now back as she ignored him to mull over her own inner turmoil. He didn't like it, so he tried another tact.

"You don't much look like that boy-ninja, Kohaku."

_That_ got her attention.

In fact, her head whipped up so fast it was like she had been pole-axed. Her expression bore witness that she had.

Bankotsu's tone was mildly inquiring, though his eyes in the shadows narrowed slightly, assessing the girl's reactions. "Wasn't he somehow related to you? Your cousin, or something like that?"

The girl bowed her head so that her bangs feathered over her eyes, hiding their expression. "He was my brother."

"Brother?" That somehow surprised Bankotsu. He had once asked the young ninja his relationship with the girl whose armor was so like his, but the boy had replied that he did not remember her at all---though, come to think of it, Kohaku had been somewhat hesitant about even admitting that much.

Huh. Kinda interesting.

Her eyes were dark, with a hint of wearied pain held tightly in check. He had definitely hit a nerve with that one. Funny how easy it was to read her expressions after having spent so little time with her. He was curious about that, and about a lot of other things. For one, why was she traveling with that half-dog and his miko? If she wasn't a ninja, then what was she? How had she received the weapons training denied most young women, and how had she gained such an ally as the fire-footed neko? She must have had some whining tale to tell about Naraku, or she wouldn't have been so set on his death, though maybe she had just gone along because she was somehow attached to the monk. He didn't like that particular idea, though, and was disgruntled by his own irritated reaction to it. She had seemed rather fond of the blue-robed hentai back on Mount Hakurei, before it was destroyed, and he, himself, had died that second time…

Itchy and feeling quite grumpy at his almost possessive reaction to the thought of the girl and the monk being something more than friends, he decided to go ahead and lob the easiest bomb first. "What ever happened to that kid, Kohaku? Died, didn't he?"

_Bulls eye._

She looked as if she'd been gutted, drawn, and quartered, with her emotions laid out to bare all over her face. Her brother, then, was her true weakness, maybe had always been her one true weakness. The kid had been Naraku's envoy and servant, maybe the dark hanyou had stolen him away or something. But the boy had been just like him and his band of brothers, one of the walking dead, revived through Naraku's gift of a Jewel shard imbedded in his back. Shouldn't the girl have been grateful for that, rather than angry enough to desire the dark hanyou's death? There were deep waters there that the girl most likely didn't want disturbed.

Well, Bankotsu was never one to be swayed by such a stupid consideration as that. It was always best to know your enemies, and so he made excuse to probe further.

"How did he die?"

She was silent for a long moment, her body stiff and her eyes dark holes in her white face, until the fire snapped, a smoldering log falling inward in a shower of glowing sparks, breaking the tensed silence between them. Her expression closed in on her pain, and her voice was flat, unemotional, as if she were speaking of nothing more than the weather.

"Naraku finally claimed the shard from his back. Kohaku could not live without it."

She seemed slightly surprised to have answered him, and Bankotsu's blue eyes narrowed slightly. He shouldn't have been that surprised. Naraku had once reclaimed his own life-giving Jewel shard as well, sending him into the cold embrace of death for a second time. But, if nothing else, Naraku had eventually kept his promise of giving Bankotsu everlasting life. Maybe it had been with his own dark aims in mind, but he had been revived a second time, by Naraku's orders, or so the young, blank-eyed daughter of the Void had told him as he blinked open startled blue eyes for a third time on this living green world…

"How did he originally die, then? Your brother?" He persisted.

The girl stiffened, eyes flashing honey with a pain so terrible it made dark memories of his own stir sullenly in the half-forgotten shadows of his past where he had placed them long ago…

The curve of her lips thinned into a tight line. "Why do you want to know, bandit?"

Bankotsu felt something burn across the back of his mind. Fists clenching, he abruptly stood up. She didn't flinch away, as he half-expected her to. Gritting his teeth, he whirled away to go and stand in front of his silk-wrapped sword, where it leaned propped up against a tree. He wanted to haul it close, as if seeking supportive comfort from a trustworthy companion, but he was not that weak. In fact, he truly despised weakness, and what he _should_ be feeling for this ninja-girl-who-was-not-a-ninja right now was contempt for the weakness she had allowed him to see so easily. But, strange at it was, he could not, and so his anger was more at himself than at her, though it didn't stop him from biting out, "I've told you. I'm not a bandit. I'm a _mercenary."_

"And that's better?" Her own scorn for him fairly dripped from her bitter words, lashing out as she was to the one who had summoned forth dark memories she had long wished to remain buried with the dead.

His eyes glittered as he turned to look over his shoulder at her. "At least I'm honest with myself."

"Are you?" She was quick to thrust back, her head coming up and her back stiffening even as she hugged her knees to her chest. She stared at him, angry and defiant.

"You know nothing about me, wench. Nothing at all." He nearly snarled.

"Would I even care to?" She gritted back. "What I've seen has not impressed me."

"Should I care?" He demanded, his mocking laughter harsh. "The opinion of a mere woman has never concerned me."

"It ever comes to that, doesn't it? The fact that I am a '_mere woman_.'" The bitterness in her voice was for more than just his own contemptuous words. There was a wealth of shaded memory there that taunted at her for her supposedly weaker sex.

Bankotsu shrugged with irritation. "Does it matter to the ninja? Whether or not you were a woman? They still trained you how to fight, no matter how weak you are at it."

Her pride was stung, but she did not snarl a reply as he expected, instead she merely ground her teeth and insulted him anew. "How can you be so thick, and still have been smart enough to lead a band of despicable murderers like the Shichinintai? I've already told you, bandit, I am _not_ a ninja."

"Then what the hell are you, wench?" He snarled, his hand instinctively reaching for a blade that lay behind him, propped out of the way against a tree. How could he have let her goad him into such fury? Did she realize how stupid she was, for egging him like that? Idiot girl! He had thought she might be different from others of her kind, but she was proving him wrong---

"I'm a _taijiya,_ dumb ass. _A demon slayer. _Not a ninja, not a samurai, not a bandit, and definitely not as weak a woman as you _think_ I am!" She had actually gotten shakily to her feet, her bandaged fingers grasping something from her knotted obi and cupping it in a hard fist of anger. Her eyes sparked in the flickering orange light of their fire and she looked ready to show him just how really strong she was.

But he had frozen at her claim, and it was with flat denial and hard eyes he decried her words. "There _are_ no slayers. They are all dead."

"Maybe most of them are, but there is still _me. _And while I live, I still hold up my family's honor in the traditions I was taught from birth. Which is more than I can say for _you_---bandit, murderer, mercenary, or whatever other filthy name you decide to call yourself. Because while there is a difference between _us, _there is no honor to distinguish _you_ between bandit or murdering _mercenary." _She spat that last word as a contemptuous epithet, her scorn written in red lines of fire.

"You dare to insult my honor?" His voice was whisper-soft, and dangerous.

She was too furious to care, raw emotions brought too close to the surface by his taunting questions and the stirring of dark memories too personal for his casual disdain. Hissing, she spat, _"What _honor?"

Control snapping, he leapt for her. She slithered out of his clutching hold, bringing her fist up to land a hard blow against his cheek. He felt the bone snap beneath her swing, and snarled as she spun away from him. But she was not quick enough for him, and he held fast to her shoulder, which he hauled with contemptible ease so that he could grab hold of her left wrist and bend it back. The solid metal object she held in her fist was thus freed and fell to the ground with a solid _thunk_ to roll away, forgotten and unheeded, as they struggled.

The girl fought hard and dirty, trying to kick out his ankle and thrust up with her knee. He blocked both moves, and used his taller build and stronger arms to haul her forcibly off of her feet. They fell to the ground, struggling and rolling over in the dirt until he finally lay atop her, his elbows pinning her arms to the ground and his broad hands wrapped around her throat as his heavier weight bore her flat beneath him, his legs pinning hers together in a pincher clasp that she could not remove.

His thumbs pressed into her jaw, forcing her to choke and gasp as the air was sent swiftly from her lungs. A drop of blood from his broken cheek fell on the side of her pale face with a faint, disregarded splatter. His eyes were furious, his voice harsh as the breath of exertion caught up with him. He spat out in anger, "You seek your death, woman."

Her breasts heaved under him as he loosened his grip slightly from around her throat. She gasped in needed, blessed air, only to glare up at him, eyes black and fierce, her faint whisper as harsh as his.

"Think you that scares me, mercenary? How little you truly know!" Her laugh was bitter darkness. "Death would _free_ me."

He froze, recognizing her darkness, her madness, her weakness for what it was.

His own.


	7. Chapter 7

Disclaimer: I do not own Inuyasha, etc. This story is for entertainment purposes only.

_**REDEMPTION**_

Summary: Specters of the past bring forth questions for the future. Can she save his soul, or will he wander forever in darkness?

_**WORDS**_

_**taijiya** - demon slayer; I looked this up on the online Japanese to English dictionary and could not find it, but I find it often in fanfiction. I referenced the syllables and found "taiji" to mean "extermination", so I have used the loose rules of fanfiction to steal this word to use as a reference to Sango's clan as a whole. This is probably a total improper disregard for the Japanese language and I apologize to any who are offended, but I am using that oblique word 'artist's license' to go ahead and do whatever the hell I please. If anyone knows the true way to refer to multiple slayers as a group please let me know and much appreciation for any clarification on the subject!_

_**ojii-san** - grandpa_

_**Seiryoku** - strength, vigor, vitality_

_**Bankotsu** - brute courage, recklessness; thousands of lives (how apt!)_

_**Sango** - coral_

WARNING! DARK IMAGERY AND ADULT TOPICS, BAD WORDS AND SPOILERS (EPISODE 122+)

_A/N - Haven't I said more than enough in the word definitions? (grin)_

_**CHAPTER SEVEN**_

His hands, twined round her neck, slowly loosened and rose until he was almost cupping her face. She blinked convulsively in shock as a sword-calloused thumb traced the track of a single tear down her cheek and gently wiped it away. Sango shuddered, but could not tear her dark eyes from his. She could detect---could it be? But how was it possible? But it was _there---_compassion and…and _understanding_…in that dark-eyed gaze.

She tore her eyes away, the riot of emotions within her too stark for her liking. He nudged her set chin back so that she was forced reluctantly to look up at him. His gaze was intense as he whispered, "I know."

"How?" She whispered back, shivering at the emotive armor he pulled from her so easily.

He grinned slightly, incongruous with the darkness that hovered in tethered shadows behind both their eyes. He said nothing, but abruptly withdrew his weight from atop her. Sango was pulled up to a sitting position as he tugged on her right elbow to haul her upright. He slowly stood, scratching the back of his neck and staring down at her with some chagrin.

His question was _not _what she was expecting.

"Hungry?"

She blinked. He was as unpredictable as Kagome, with lightening-fast shifts of topic and mood. But that something that had knitted itself between them was still there, he was just ignoring it for the moment to worry over the mundane.

Shaking her head, she stared down at her hands, held limply in her lap. She would have thought herself mad, if not for the crazy reality that surrounded her. Had this madman not just had his hands wrapped around her throat, threatening her with quick death, and had she not welcomed it as if there was nothing else left her in this empty, lonely world? Was she broken so easily, her will to live, which had always seemed so strong, so weak indeed? Her emotions were raw, and her awareness of what now motivated her wrenched into something utterly unrecognized.

"Well, I am, if you aren't." Moving to the packs lumped beyond the flickering campfire, Bankotsu rummaged through them, coming back with some incongruous bundles. She ignored him, wrapped in her own dark thoughts of startling revelation, as he moved about the camp, setting something to steep in a makeshift pot above the fire, freeing the horse so that he could water it and then repositioning the sway-backed nag so that it could continue to graze, undisturbed and unaffected by the silent tension that now hung heavy and ponderous in the air around them.

Sango roused as Bankotsu slowly circled the boundaries of their camp, his stride measuring the oblong length between the leaf-borne trees. There was a faint, fuchsian glow as he concentrated on the opposite, polar ends, roughly east and west, distinguishing the barrier that kept her prisoner and hid their temporary camp from the inquisitive.

How could she possibly hope her friends might find her? But maybe, just maybe, Bankotsu had forgotten that Kagome could sense the broken fragments of the Shikon no Tama, and trace their current location through the shards' tainted aura. Still, it did little to cheer her dark thoughts, which were turned too much inward to be truly worried over her own fate right now.

A warmed bowl was thrust into her lowered vision, and Sango's left hand automatically curved around it as a savory aroma tickled her nose and awakened the hunger she had earlier denied. The dirt-smeared bandages that swathed her left palm had been loosened since Bankotsu had first bound them, and the movement of her fingers was now unrestricted. Sprawling knees out in a rather unladylike position, in a style more reminiscent of Inuyasha than of her own, Sango was too hungry to care. Setting the warmed bowl in her lap, she used the chopsticks with her left hand---not as gracefully as she would have with her right, truth be told, but still able---to spear an unidentifiable blob of mixed meat and vegetable to her lips.

Blowing on the morsel to cool it, her eyes blinked up to see Bankotsu intently watching her. She paused, her brown gaze cautious.

He made a short gesture with his own chopsticks for her to continue with her dinner. Turning his gaze, he stared broodingly into the sullen orange glow of the fire, which spat occasionally as the thick sap of the pinewood piled therein melted with angry hisses of displeasure. They ate in silence, both doing full justice to their portions if deriving no enjoyment from their repast. There was an unsettled tension between them, and it was Bankotsu who abruptly thrust his unfinished dinner to one side and finally stood up, pacing to and fro so that it got on Sango's edgy nerves and she finally laid her own aside in uncomfortable silence.

Bankotsu suddenly paused, his back slightly to her, his face in shadows, though it was angled to the side to glace back in her direction. The pale shadow of his armor was blurred into tones of orange and rust, grayed shadow and cream by the fitful light of their fire, the slight whirls of embroidery stark black outlines against the silken cloth of kimono and tabard. The inky length of his single long braid trailed down his back, and his question made Sango jump, surprised at the harshness in his voice.

"You claim to be a demon slayer. I thought them all gone. Where then, did you come from? What place, what village?"

Startled, Sango actually told him, naming the rocky valley that had sheltered them in the mountainous folds that also hid the stony tomb of Midoriko. Of what use it was to him, she knew not, but he seemed almost anxious to know.

"I have never heard of your clan." He said, as if that satisfied his denial of her assertion.

"What of it? We have always hid ourselves deep in the mountains, lest youkai learn of our secrets and seek us out in revenge." She did not tell him of the other, darker reason, that they had always guarded the miko's tomb, and thus secrecy had become habit and then tradition as the long years of their custody and safeguarding had continued.

"Why did you leave them then? Your family, your clan? Demon slayers are as loyal to their clan as ninja."

Expression tightening, Sango said slowly, "They are gone."

Bankotsu turned his head to regard her fully, his blue eyes narrowed. "Gone?"

"Dead." It was Sango's turn to stare broodingly into the mesmerizing flames. It was as if she spoke from a distance, her words halting and soft, but firming into hard release as she retold the tale of treachery and betrayal, of Naraku's insidious plot to steal the five Jewel shards the slayers had painstakingly gathered and kept housed in the village's shrine. Of the death and destruction of all she had held dear and close to her, and of that final, bitter betrayal of Naraku's, when he had used her poor brother to slaughter her father and the other demon slayers summoned to a lord's castle, to chase the specter of a spider demon that was merely another insidious plot laid by Naraku to steal the body of Lord Kagewaki and use her own angry thirst for revenge to attack Inuyasha, who she had mistakenly believed was the cause of her clan's annihilation.

She continued, telling of how she had finally learned the truth, and had journeyed forth with the hanyou and the monk, the miko and the little kitsune, ever seeking salvation for her brother and vengeance on the dark hanyou who had failed in the end, though not without finally taking Kohaku from her. Revenge had not brought the ease of pain and sorrow within her, and she had not realized how deeply she still felt his loss, or how keen her loneliness was, last of her clan, and now alone in this world, even surrounded as she was by the strong bulwark of trust and friendship that had grown slowly between the Inu-gumi as they once again journeyed forth, seeking the far-flung shards scattered in a final gesture of spite upon Naraku's death.

Tears brightened her eyes but did not fall, and she didn't even notice them as her sad tale finally slowed and died into silence, heavy with the darkness that now swirled through her soul. She had thought she had put the past behind her with Naraku's death, that she could ignore and deny the raw sorrow that edged her every step as she continued her journey, her hazy goal one to make right the Shikon no Tama, a misty dream that gave her an excuse to keep going, to keep existing, if not truly _living_. Long had she denied the dark anger that still hid sullenly in her heart. Naraku's death had not banished it, and even the comfort of her friends could not totally reassure her that she had not somehow failed them all in the end…

Why she spoke of such things to such a one as Bankotsu, she knew not. But it had been the first time she had ever truly bared her past, and something held tight within her chest seemed somehow to ease even as bitter reflection slowed her into dark silence.

For a long time, Bankotsu said nothing, and she was mildly grateful for that, though she was too lost in her own dark thoughts to really heed his presence on any true level of awareness, though his gaze rested on her for a long time without comment.

Abruptly breaking the silence, he turned away from her with a sharp movement. Sango's head whipped up and she frowned in self-derision at her foolish weakness in revealing to him her own internal darkness. _Stupid! Should he care how sad a tale I tell?_

This was Bankotsu, after all.

Stalking over to his Banryuu, he touched the silk-wrapped blade with near reverence. His voice was low and harsh in the close-knit clearing, as if he did not like what he would admit to her and was as reluctant to speak as she had been. "You are not the only one who has lost all in this world."

Sango ventured a tentative question. "You speak of your brothers? The Shichinintai?"

"My brothers." His words were dry, tinged with sweet irony. He seemed lost in thought for a moment, to the point where Sango decided he would say nothing more, but then his hand dropped from the broad blade of his halberd and he asked harshly, "What would you think, taijiya, if I told you that I myself had come from a clan who were honored for their ability to slay demons?"

Sango could say nothing, too shocked into surprise at his astonishing query. She could not resolve the two…merciless mercenary, self-proclaimed killer of a thousand men---

_And demons._

She blinked at the sudden intrusion of that startling remembrance.

His back to her, he raised his head to stare up at the half-mooned hilt of his giant sword. "This sword…it was a treasured blade passed down from father to eldest son. It should have gone to my older brother, Seiryoku."

Sango stirred slightly, wondering what tale he would tell to equal hers.

"My clan was taiji, much as yours. But we did not hide ourselves in the mountains." There was a slight scorn to his voice that made her stiffen in stung pride, but he continued unheeding, "I thought we were the only ones."

He cast her a somewhat rueful glance, shaking his head slightly. "What think you of that, taijiya? Does it startle you to learn that you and I were much the same once?"

What could she say? Sango could only stare at him.

"Speechless, eh? Never thought I'd see a woman with nothing at all to say." His attempt at humor was pretty flat.

"What…" Sango paused, swallowing against the dryness in her throat, her voice a hoarse whisper in the fire-split night. "What made you…" Her words trailed off, helpless to define what he was to her now…bandit, mercenary, cold-blooded killer.

"Heh." A cocky grin was gone as quickly as it had been summoned, and he turned his back to her, regarding the giant halberd wrapped in silk that rested so innocently against the tall, wide-branching tree that seemed much smaller by its leaning weight.

For long moments, there was nothing but drawn silence, broken only by the fitful crackling of the fire between them and the fainter rustling movements of the horse as it grazed in the shadows beyond. Finally, Bankotsu spoke, and his words were low, more to himself than to her.

"My clan, as yours, was destroyed, my village razed and my people hunted down and slaughtered, one by one, from littlest babe to oldest wife." His right hand was clenched into a fist as his head bowed, the dark and helpless rage boiling up inside of him as it had her not but moments before. "But not by youkai or hanyou…"

He finally turned to look at her, and the pure hatred that glittered in his blue-black eyes made Sango's breath catch. "But by _men."_

Chilled by the cold fury in the mercenary's voice, Sango could only stare at him.

Each word was bit out through clenched teeth and old rage. "We were strong and our rice fields rich. The other villages, drained by the daimyo's constant wars, were jealous of us and wanted our land. So they claimed that it was _us, _the taiji, who made the demons angry, that _we_ were the reason the youkai attacked so much, and not the bloody clan-wars. So they betrayed us for their own greed, coming at night, in the dark, to kill us all and steal our land and our fields for themselves."

Eyes glittering, he continued, "My father, the headman of our clan, knew that we could not win against so many of them, and that he and all the others would die. He made my brother Seiryoku take me and his sword, Banryuu, into the forest to hide. But the filthy traitors followed us, and Seiryoku was killed when he drew them away from where I hid in the bushes with our family's sword."

He became silent, lost in embittered memories. The stirring of old anger and utter loss and betrayal hung over his soul like a dark cloud of menace. Sango shivered, caught up in that web of bitter rage, and understanding too well the darkness that fueled it. She had thought Naraku's treachery could not be equaled, but _Naraku_ had never been once hailed friend and neighbor, defended and succored by kin and clan. To have the very people you defended and protected as slayer and sworn warrior turn on you---was that not worse? So very, very much worse? Naraku had only been true to his nature, done what he had always done to ferment the darkness and malice his evil soul took such delight in. It was so easy to understand what drove the dark hanyou, so easy to hate and despise him

But to find such evil, such dark betrayal and stark greed in the hand of a friend? Was not the knife stabbed in the back by the friend who would welcome you with a clasp and knife kept hidden behind a false smile, was that not so much worse?

What would that have done to _her? _To find her world, not only gone and empty, with all that held and loved and supported destroyed, but to find that very world turned so that she could not know friend from foe, enemy from ally? How could she have ever been able to trust anyone, ever, again? How could she have not turned that bitter knowledge into hatred for all mankind, who could be so easily swayed by greed and envy, so that they could betray the very ones who they had always turned to for protection against the dark terrors of the night?

It was a betrayal of all she had been taught to believe…that it was the duty---no, the _honor---_of the taiji, the demon slayers, to stand between man and youkai, defending those less skilled against those who would prey so readily upon them…

"I killed them, you know. I killed them _all. _I could not use my father's sword; I was not strong enough yet. But I learned all that I could as quickly as I could, and I built up my strength so that I could go back and raise Banryuu over their heads in revenge. I hunted them down, one by one, village by village, as they had hunted my clan down, and I killed every single last one of them, so that their blood stained itself upon my sword and I made my wish upon Banryuu, that once I had killed a thousand men and a thousand demons I would gain the strength denied me by weakness."

She could only shiver, wondering how Bankotsu could have survived that betrayal long enough to even gain what few friends he had had, and understanding, perhaps, what forces might have motivated him in the choices he had made in his short, brutal life.

"You have nothing to say, taijiya?" Bankotsu's voice came out of the darkness, cold as ice and just as biting.

"How old were you when…?" Sango whispered to her knees, which she had drawn up as he spoke of his dark past, hugged tight to her chest with bowed head, unable to meet his angry gaze.

"Does it matter?" He began to taunt, but then abruptly fell silent. Staring at the fire, which smoldered and danced with its own burning concerns, he finally said, "I was seven."

_Seven._

So young. So very, very young to have lost all that he had. He had been younger, far younger, than even Kohaku.

A single tear slipped down her pale cheek, an accord she had not been able to shed even for her own loss. Her eyes burned, and a second tear fell. Her heart was tight with the bitter darkness and pain that surrounded him, so much more than hers, so very much more…

The sneering scorn crept back as he suddenly noticed her tears. "Did I frighten you then, taijiya, with what I just told you?"

"No." She said, wiping at her wet eyes with a grubby sleeve, and finding that she could not keep them from falling, and did not want to. He stared at her with glittering black eyes, his contempt plain, and she finally explained softly, "I cry for you, for your loss and your pain."

"Don't bother. I don't need a woman's tears."

"No." She agreed, but could not stop. Perhaps it was the final relinquishing of her own dark pain in the stark face of his that was so much more, but she could not stop the wetness that crept down her cheeks in a slow, unyielding flow. Bending her head back down to her knees, she made no sound, not desiring his continued contempt of such a womanly weakness, but too worn and tired to do naught more but than to let them fall, saddened at the betrayal of innocence, hers or his, it did not truly matter.

_7777777777777777_

He could not bear to watch her. For some ungodly reason, her silence struck him more poignant than if she had seeped and sobbed and decried his past with loud exclamations of pity and remorse or raging remonstrance. Setting his jaw, he turned his back on her, stalking over to his giant sword and staring at it, though not truly seeing it before him. He was a bit surprised at the deep darkness that had lain dormant inside of him, the bitterness and anger tasting as fresh as it had that dark night, long ago, when the villagers had come armed with scythe and torch to lay waste his childhood. His emotions were too raw, and he did not like it.

The anger, now---the anger was something he could understand and something that he could use, energy to draw on to strengthen and aid him in battle joined. But this pain…it did not sit well with him, and he did not like how her silent tears were calling it up inside of him, though he could feel the dark tide that swathed his soul slowly eddying away as he stood there in stubborn silence and she wept just as quietly for his pain.

Closing his eyes, he sighed gustily.

Would she keep this up all night?

And with that selfishly bitchy thought, he felt shamed for once, and grimaced at the strange emotion. But then he excused it, by coming up with idle concerns for her welfare to deny what her tears were doing to him and just how much they were affecting him.

_She'll cry herself sick, and then where will I be? Damn it all._

He better make her stop, then, or she would, and then where would he be? She was wounded enough already, without making herself sick…

Gah. What a bother it all was!

Shrugging with irritation, he fetched two seemingly similar wooden flasks from the packs piled to one side of the clearing and then stalked back over to stand and glare down at her.

"Are you done yet?"

There was a muffled sound, he wasn't quite sure what it was, but it sounded almost like a laugh, and he frowned, and poked her bowed form with a toe.

"Taijiya?"

She sighed, and finally looked up at him. She looked like hell, her eyes red and her nose kind of runny. But the black hair tangled around her face was artlessly curled around shoulders and cheek, and the orange-tinged shadows cast by the glowering fire brought out the delicate high bones of her cheeks and the softness of her lips, giving her a beauty that not many could achieve, even with the dubious benefit of conscientiously applied cosmetics.

Her honey-browned eyes were dewy and wide, and she was giving him that look again, the one that said _'I think you're crazy.' _Boy, did that one get on his nerves, but it was ten times better than her sniffling up at him like he had half-expected she would.

"Water?" He offered the first flask, and waggled it at her when she didn't immediately take it from him. "You probably need it, you've spilled enough water already tonight to dry up a river."

There was a flicker of a smile and she finally took the proffered flask. As she drank quite greedily from the rim, he hauled the horse-blanket over and absently draped it across her shoulders. Pulling the second flask open, he flopped on the grass beside her and took a long, much needed, drink. The sake burned down his throat, making his eyes nearly cross. Kyoukotsu's old grandfather must have been downright batty when he made this stuff. The raw alcohol in the rice wine was potent enough for old Renkotsu to have used it as fuel for his special fire-spewing brew.

Thinking about it, Kyoukotsu's ojii-san had probably been drunk off the fumes and not known what he was doing when he mixed this swill up. Still, he couldn't be too choosy with his poison when this was all there was, and he thought they both might need a good kick of it after all that disruptive emotional business of earlier.

Hell, whatever worked, would.

She had drained the first flask, which held only water, and didn't think twice about taking a good quaff of the second one he offered her. Her eyes widened substantially though as the raw spirits hit her belly, and she nearly choked. Bankotsu helpfully pounded her back, which only made her cough and gasp as she waved a distracted hand at him to stop. He tried to take the flask back from her, but she silently shook her head, and took a second, longer pull from the flask before finally relinquishing it.

Grinning, he matched her pull for pull. The spirits were working, even for a connoisseur of sake such as himself. He felt a bit light-headed after the fourth swig, and the raw-edged wounds of his soul were comfortably muzzled by alcoholic beguilement. She didn't seem quite so affected, but she had to be. She was a good couple of stones lighter than he, and probably didn't have his familiarity for the stuff. Eying her, he waited, and was finally rewarded for his vigil.

_Hiccup._

Her hand flew to her mouth in surprise, and she giggled, her cheeks flushed.

He grinned. The sake was working wonders on her, she was truly relaxing for the first time he had ever seen her, hugging the blanket around her thin shoulders and twining a long black curl around her fingers before discarding it for another turn at the flask.

"You confuse me, you know." She finally spoke, her voice husky and words slightly slurred. He didn't want her toppling over on him, so he kept the flask when it was his turn to take it back. His aim had been to relax her, not make her stupid drunk so that all she could do was pass out and wake up with an aching head and noxious hangover.

"I confuse a lot of people." He replied with a cocky grin. She smiled back, for the first time a real smile, and it made her quite pretty. "I like confusing people, keeps 'em on their toes. Never know what to expect."

"Never know what to expect." She agreed, still smiling. "Like you being the leader of the Band of Seven."

"What do you mean?" Bankotsu was truly surprised by her comment.

"You're so…" She waved her hand, at a loss of words, and abruptly changed the subject by turning it into a question. "How did you meet them? The band?"

"Here and there, I guess. I was already shield-brothers with Jakotsu, you know. We met fighting against a couple of daimyo, and he told me I had a really big sword. Heh." He grinned at the memory of his best friend.

"He would." She replied with an edgy irony he rather liked about her. He liked the fact that she didn't make any snide comments about Jakotsu's particular habits, just saying, "He didn't like women much."

"Nope." Bankotsu agreed with a fond smile for his long-departed friend. He missed him, at times. Jakotsu had been one of the few on this earth that he had been able to trust completely.

"How did you come up with the idea? For a mercenary band?" She asked, resting her head on her bent knees and looking at him with curiosity.

"Dunno. Came to me, suddenly, after I first met Naraku." She didn't flinch from the dark hanyou's name, and so he went on to tell her of his initial meeting with the strange youkai wrapped in the fur of a white baboon. Perhaps it was the influence of strong sake that loosened his tongue, or maybe it was the fact that he had already revealed the darkest part of his past to her. Maybe it was just the soft curiosity in her dark brown eyes, or the fact that he was feeling a bit melancholy for the past and missed the friends who could never now be revived and he felt the need to relive some of the good times amid so much of the bad, but he saw no reason to hide anything from her, which should have surprised the hell out of him but did not…

He had a lot of his own curiosity to satisfy, and asked her idle questions in turn, passing the flask of sake whenever she thought to hesitate. She told him of her father, who she still honored and deeply loved, and of her brother before he was corrupted by Naraku's influence. Her voice warmed when she spoke of her friends, and of her youkai companion, the fire-neko. Both of them avoided speaking too much of subjects that made the other uncomfortable; Bankotsu forbore mentioning Naraku so much, and she passed over the Inu-gumi with light reference, though he could tell how important they were to her.

"And the monk?" Bankotsu asked her, unable to resist the need to know. "What is he to you?"

"Miroku?" Her smile was soft and her expressive eyes seemed suddenly full of memories. Hiding a scowl, Bankotsu passed her the flask, which she held but did not drink. "I loved him once."

Bankotsu didn't particularly like that statement, and took the flask back to suck down a good amount so she wouldn't see his expression. But she smiled, idly propping her head on her hand and saying softly, "We promised ourselves once, that we would eventually be together. But…I don't know…feelings change, I guess. We decided to leave things be, and he is too good a friend to ever pretend to something that doesn't exist anymore."

"So, you don't love him?" Bankotsu pressed.

"I do." She said with a silly smile he didn't like, though her next words calmed his growing ire. "But as a friend, and _only_ as a friend."

"Do you love someone else, then?" He recklessly pursued the subject, surprised at how much he wanted to know.

She gave him a lop-sided smile. "I once had a daimyo ask for my hand, but he was only in love with what he _thought_ I was, and not _who_ I was." And she told him of Lord Kuranosuke of the Takeda clan, and of the lord's determination to wait for her, no matter how long it took. She laughed. "I hope he hasn't; it has been over three years since last I saw him and I have no wish to become the pampered wife of a noble house. I will be the first to admit I could never be pretty or docile enough to make a good ornament for such a lord, and could never tolerate being imprisoned to the house as a noble lady is."

He could have argued her prettiness, but left it alone for now. Instead, he changed the subject and told her of his various teachers in the art of war, and asked after the giant boomerang she usually carried.

Their conversation enlivened on the subject, and he had to respect her knowledge of demon-made weaponry, knowing quite a bit of it himself. They compared their clans, the pain of the long-departed not touching them as they casually spoke of training and technique, from their first youkai killed to their different styles of fighting. His respect and admiration grew, as she recounted the hardships of being a slayer and also a girl, of how her clan had not supported the idea of the headman's daughter taking up steel at first, and how her father had given in to her wishes only after he had found her awkwardly trying to teach herself when no one was around to see…

He spoke of his brother Seiryoku, and of his own father and mother, who he could recall only dimly. He told her of meeting the various brothers of his band, and how each had been a resentful misfit on the edge of a strict society who despised or embittered them. He told her of Kyoukotsu's family, and that the hostel they had stopped at had been theirs.

"I could not understand them." She admitted. "I wondered if perhaps they came from the mainland."

"They do. They fled the wars there, only to find more here, finally settling in a place too remote for war to follow…" He continued, talking about their son, the one member of the Shichinintai that she had never met. The night stretched on, and the fire slowly died, but both of them were too distracted to notice, and he was far too comfortable laying on his side next to where she sat, head resting on her bent knees, to want to get up and add more wood to the waning flames.

Their subjects ranged far and wide, and she finally asked him, "The tattoo you bear…where did you get it and what does it mean?"

He grinned. "It's my Banryuu, though the artist was a bit drunk and didn't get the portions just right."

She laughed softly, and he raised a hand to gently touch the reddened lines he knew where hidden behind the thick feathers of long, sooty lashes. "And these? Did you lose a bet or something?"

Biting her lip, she replied, "It was the mark in my clan of my finally becoming a true slayer. I survived my first battle alone, and my father traced it himself."

"How old were you?" He asked curiously.

"Thirteen…" She then told him of that battle, and the ogre she had slain, earning her place among the warriors of her clan, which led to a story of her brother and how weak and sickly he was as a child, how much he had always wanted to impress their father, and how sweet he had been. By now she felt free enough to speak of her fears for him, and of the darkness that later surrounded them and of her own feelings of failure in not having saved him.

"There was nothing you could have done." Bankotsu told her fiercely, and went on to speak of his own bitterness at Jakotsu's death and of Renkotsu's betrayal after they had all been given a second chance at life, and the recall of treachery and darkness it had been for him, almost a re-living of the night his clan had been betrayed…

The shadows of the night deepened as the fire finally died, and perhaps it was because the darkness hid their expressions from one another or the easy acceptance that they had fallen into over a shared bottle of sake and the sharing of easier memories, but both of them began to speak of the darker whispers of their heart, the pain-filled treachery and the anger that had burned within, touching freely on subjects they had carefully avoided before. The curious understanding between them sprang up anew as they purged their souls into the darkness, as if seeking comfort and confession in the night, two lonely, scarred souls seeking solace in the understanding of one another, accepting the darkness and perhaps finding forgiveness if they had been strong enough yet to find it…

But eventually the night grew too long and the girl's weariness too much, and she blinked at him sleepily, unable to fight the needs of her exhaustion any longer. She was all but slumped over, and would have toppled if Bankotsu had not been quick enough to steady her. She apologized, too tired to even blush, and Bankotsu only grinned understanding that she could not see in the black shadows of the unlit night. He gathered her unresisting body up, blanket and all, and thought of leaving her to lie at the base of her chosen tree, but thought better of it, not wanting to be alone.

And so he set himself down, his back to the firm trunk, with the girl curled around him, nestled into the blanket and the warmth of his arms. She murmured sleepily, and a sudden thought made him ask quietly, with surprise at not having asked before, "What is your name, taijiya?"

"Sango." She barely breathed a reply into his shoulder as her eyes finally closed and she drifted into slumber.

"Sango…" He muttered to himself, liking the sound of it. Coral, both strong and beautiful. It suited her.

And as she slept held in his arms, he thought that, like a prized piece of fine coral that had just happened to fall into his keeping, he might never want to let this one go...


	8. Chapter 8

Disclaimer: I do not own Inuyasha, etc. This story is for entertainment purposes only.

_REDEMPTION_

Summary: Specters of the past bring forth questions for the future. Can she save his soul, or will he wander forever in darkness?

_WORDS_

_oo-aniki - big brother_

WARNING! DARK IMAGERY AND ADULT TOPICS, BAD WORDS AND SPOILERS (EPISODE 122+)

_A/N - This is rather a short chapter, and did _not_ go as I thought it would. LOL. I am often surprised by what gets typed…though it mostly comes out better than the hazy plans I make before starting out to write a new chapter…it's like taking a ride on a bike without being able to steer…eeek…anywho, I want to give a most ardent thanks for the wonderful reviews. They truly inspire me to keep on writing. Special thanks go to CuriousGeorge, Guyute24, TwinSOS, sangofan89, Chigirl and raven-999 for their continued support. I deeply appreciate the time you take out to type out your opinion...and I promise fluff in the next chapter, which is being written now._

_Fate _

_CHAPTER EIGHT_

At first she had been tentative and shy with him, especially after waking up in his arms, with him staring down at her with a cocky little smirk as the fierce blush heated up her cheeks. She had never known how deep and dark a blue his eyes could be, as intense as hovering twilight just before the black shadows of deeper night over swept cobalt skies…

"Awake, are you?" He said, and she nodded, distracted by how warm she felt, pretending it was the flush that stained her skin and not the warmth that came from him holding her so closely.

With a shrugging twitch of his shoulders, he released her and she slowly sat up, uncurling the smelly blanket from around her, and making a face at the pungent aroma of horse that arose from her skin. Bankotsu laughed at her expression, and Sango managed a flickering smile in return. Sunlight dappled the deep green shade of the clearing, the shelter of the night slowly gaining renewed life as the morning unfurled.

Bankotsu got to his feet and grinned down at her. "I'll go get our stuff and we'll get moving. You seem to be doing better, taijiya."

She nodded absently, suddenly reminded of her precarious situation. She was his hostage, not here by her own free will, and her friends were probably worrying themselves sick over her welfare. The close exchange of last night seemed distanced by the reminder of just who and what he was…her enemy…though she just couldn't quite see him as she had before. Still, it felt like a betrayal to have such confusing reactions to his very personable charm, and she felt troubled and a little apprehensive as he saddled up the horse and strapped down the packs before sauntering back to offer her a hand up.

Biting her lip, she silently accepted his assistance, even allowing him to help her mount. The horse shook its head and snorted as Bankotsu, having retrieved both shards and sword, casually climbed up behind her. Securing his huge halberd out of the way, which made the horse sigh in resignation, the mercenary then gathered up the reins and signaled the nag to head on out.

Sango sat stiff and silent as the horse picked its way back toward the main road. She remained mute as they ambled along for a good bit, though she nodded quiet thanks when Bankotsu passed her dried meat and apricots by way of breakfast, sharing the replenished water flask to ease the rather leathery rations down. Bankotsu himself remained quiet and withdrawn, possessed by his own thoughts, but he finally seemed to liven up as they came to a fork in the road. To the left lay a curve of hilly terrain, eventually opening up into distant fields; to the right, the path curved deeper into a forest of deep green shadows.

Sango had been certain they would go left, for that was the way the horse had been leading, but Bankotsu abruptly steered the animal to the right, his mouth quirking to one side in sudden decision. Sango forbore asking him why he was suddenly so concerned with touching the half-mooned hilt of his sword, pressing his fingers in a strange, three-fingered grip and narrowing his eyes in concentration. She did not catch the faint gleam of fuchsia-tinged mist that slowly shadowed their tracks, even though she tried to turn her head to see just what Bankotsu was doing.

The horse shook himself, as if flies had landed on both shoulder and hindquarter. Tail lashing from side to side, it arched its neck and rubbed its long thick head against its shoulder, lightly bumping Sango's knee. With a laugh, Bankotsu reined its attention back on the road, and with a snorty sigh at the inevitable, it settled back into its normal plodding pace, as the green shadows of the entwining forest enveloped them in verdant twilight.

Bankotsu seemed suddenly at ease, and his idle question made Sango blink, coming as it did right out of the blue. "So, taijiya, we were talking last night about your Hiraikotsu. You mentioned that it was made from demon-bone, and once cracked under the pressure of killing a coyote demon, but you never got around to telling me how you were able to fix it."

Sango was surprised enough that she was answering him before thinking about it. "My father showed me. I first had to reinforce the boomerang's surface with…"

And so, by judicious manipulation of the inane, the mercenary was able to draw the taijiya out of her silence, until they were speaking as any old friends, eager to know more about each other. And so the morning passed, as did the afternoon, and Sango relaxed and thought not of her worries or her fate or her friends, but only of the varied focus of their roaming conversation, with one topic flowing easily into another, and yet another…

She grew quiet as the sun descended, troubled and withdrawn as Bankotsu called a halt and proceeded to make camp as if there was nothing wrong. Using the Jewel shards, he again marked a roughly oval space in which she felt more like a prisoner than ever. She answered his few queries with short, terse replies. Cocking a brow at her, she half-expected him to demand to know just what the hell was wrong with her, why she was suddenly so reticent, but he showed surprising forbearance, just passing over a bowl of stewed rice and vegetables that she barely touched.

Sango pointedly avoided him as the moon rose and she made ready for sleep. Choosing her bed in the curving roots of a wide oak, she rolled herself up in the horse-blanket and her eyes grew heavy, though she had feared that her troubled thoughts might have kept her awake. But exhaustion crept up on her out of the dark, and with only the smoldering flicker of their campfire for light, she fell quickly asleep.

_8888888888888888_

Bankotsu sat cross-legged, elbows on knees and chin propped upon his cupped fists as he stared broodingly into the sputtering fire. The kindling he had scrounged had been slightly damp, and the flames did not like it, and spat moodily in their discontent.

He felt just as disgruntled, and although he was not one to like to sit and think hard over something like some creaky old philosopher, he was doing just that right now. Although he did not watch her, he was conscious of the girl Sango who lay bundled up in the blanket on the far side of their fire. She had grown quiet as the day had waned, and had been all but mumbling by the time she had finally rolled herself up in the crook of that tree to sleep.

He could tell that it was thoughts of her friends that was troubling her. Her oh-so-casual glances over her shoulder as the day grew longer gave her preoccupation away, as had her resigned look as he had walked the boundaries of their chosen campsite, setting up the shards as sentries to fool the nosy and prying.

She hadn't acted like that earlier. True, she had been quite shy this morning when she had woken up in his lap, but that troubled look had departed once he drew her out. It was only when she was reminded of her rather dubious situation that she seemed to get all wary and silent, keeping her thoughts to herself and all but clamming up on him. She was probably wondering what the hell he was doing, and just where they were going.

To be honest, Bankotsu himself didn't even know the answer. He had made an abrupt and rather reckless decision back there at the forked paths, and now that decision was trying its best to haunt him with all of the repercussions that might arise from it.

If he had gone left, then they would have come out into settled lands, or semi-settled, rather, for the constant wars of the daimyo down in those hilled valleys had long ravaged the lands and peasants who lived there. Suikotsu had once made his home there, in a small village that had been all too easily destroyed when their lord's conflicts had come too near. He had thought to lure the hanyou there, and kill him in revenge for the secondary deaths of his mercenary's band of brothers.

But now he just didn't quite know what to do. Because while he _should_ be thinking of just how many ways there were to gut that damn half-dog into tiny little pieces, it just didn't seem all that important. Not that his brothers, and his duty and his allegiance and what he owed to their fallen memories wasn't less important, but it just seemed a little distant right now, not as immediate, and hell, he was almost tired of how constant it seemed that this, his third chance at life, was taken up with shit that had happened in the other two chances he had had. When would it all end? The fighting and the darkness…

With an uneasy shrug of his shoulders, Bankotsu grimaced. All this deep thinking was making his head hurt. He had always been made more for action than for contemplation, and all this broody bullshit was getting under his skin and making him just plain old irritated.

What the hell was there to think about? He liked the girl's company. She reminded him of his brothers, well…not precisely _all_ his brothers---but he didn't feel quite so alone with her around. He felt comfortable with her, at ease. He didn't have to guard his back with her---though he would never underestimate her ability to toss him on his ass if she were given half a chance and wasn't down with a gimpy leg and a bruised wrist.

He grinned at the thought. She was unlike any woman he had ever met. He had never, ever, thought that he would find a woman he could actually like, let alone _respect_. There were few things that he respected in this world. Strength, for one, and trust. Loyalty---which she had in plenty---and honor. Honor! Hell, she was almost stifled with it. The deep shame she harbored in her darkest heart was entirely due to her over-developed sense of what was right, and how much she must live up to what others expected of and from her.

His own sense of honor was so much simpler. Truth…that you be true to your self, your friends and your values. He wasn't idealistic enough to think that he was anything more than what he was, a mercenary who's temporary allegiance was up for sale. But his loyalty, once bought, _stayed_ bought, unless his employer reneged on the contract, thus ending all deals by betraying the terms agreed on beforehand. He didn't take betrayal very well; hell, would anyone, with _his_ history? He didn't give his trust easily---if he truly thought about it, there had really only been two people in this whole world he had ever really been able to trust, and both Jakotsu and Seiryoku were now dead.

It was kind of sad, come to think of it. Which is why he didn't think about it all that much. Something told him that he might, eventually, be able to trust Sango, but he wasn't so stupid as to believe that it was there now, no matter how much they found they held in common. But he wanted the opportunity to try and find out if what he thought might be there ever _could_ be, and he was damn sure not going to waste this life as he had the other two.

He steered away from that uncomfortable thought, and wondered what it would take to win the girl's trust. Not that he needed it, or her, but it sure felt nice to have someone around that needed _him. _He had missed the easy companionship of his brothers more than he could have ever guessed, and while she wasn't much like _them, _she was actually a lot like him. Strong…though her strengths were different than his, and she couldn't really see them for what they were, and didn't damn near give herself enough credit for them. Honest…though, truth be told, she wasn't all that honest with herself, but was he? But he would never have to wonder too much what she might be thinking or plotting…her emotions were too easily read by those who cared to. Loyal, and brave, a warrior who knew not her own ability, though, come to think of it, she most likely did, but was just too modest to brag about it…

Gah. This was getting him nowhere. What he needed to be doing was figuring out ways he might muddy their trail, so that the hanyou would get tired and frustrated and eventually give up on tracking them. He didn't think that that half-dog was half as loyal as the taijiya. He had his mate the miko, what more could he want? The monk, by Sango's own account, was just a friend, and an eye-roaming lecher at that. If some pretty young village girl came along, he would probably go stumbling after her, forgetting all about whatever it was he was doing at the time. Sango would be the least of _that_ one's worries. The fire-neko might prove to be a pain, but in the end, it was a youkai, and Bankotsu didn't put much stock in _their _loyalty.

He might be underestimating them, but he would climb that hill when he came to it and not worry about it beforehand. He had made his decision back at the split road, he had taken the right-hand path, which led deep into the wooden wilds and into unknown territory. He meant to keep the girl with him, and that was that.

Heck, he might even consider her a little sister he needed to take care of. Her brother Kohaku had been all but adopted by his band back in the days when Naraku had set them against the Inu-gumi, and what was Sango but that kid's only living relative? What was one brother's was another's; thus Sango could now be considered to be one of his band. It was a start, anyhow.

Though he didn't really want to consider her in the same light as he would a _sister…_

Ah, well, enough of this shit. He had made his mind up. Now all he needed to do was to make her forget all about her former friends, and show her that it was much better that she stay with him He would protect her and care for her like none of her friends ever had. Was he not Bankotsu, leader of the Band of Seven? Had he not been their 'oo-aniki'?

This was for the best, for both of them.

And with that satisfying justification, he felt suddenly freed from the brooding weight of his tangled thoughts. Jumping to his feet, he stalked over to his beloved companion, which rested against a tree, the blade wrapped in dark silk. The half-moon emblem at the end of its hilt glinted in the fitful firelight. Bankotsu laid his open palm on the silk, feeling the living warmth within. At one time, his greed for power had cost him his most prized possession, making him no better than Renkotsu in the end. That wish for strength had been Banryuu's undoing, and he never intended to make the same mistake twice. If he had learned one thing at Inuyasha's hands, it had been that he, himself, was strong enough to do whatever he needed to do.

Still, it didn't hurt to have a couple of Jewel shards around to lend a hand. Naraku had taught him that, though he would never desire ultimate power in the way that that demon had. Strength was enough….though the shards certainly helped. Whatever worked, _would. _If the broken pieces of the Shikon no Tama proved convenient, then what the hell.

Brushing his fingers along the silk-wrapped blade, he pulled forth the power from the shards thrust within. There were six of them, some slightly larger than the others, though he didn't think their power was aided or reduced by their relative size. Still, knitting them together, he had quite a bit of focused power with which to use, and as he closed his eyes and thought hard on what he wanted from them, they gained a malignantly fuchsian glow, as if waiting for his direction.

But his aims were hazy, and so, while he put his desire into that wealth of power, it lacked the true command the dark hanyou Naraku had always given. He wished their trail lost, so that the Inu-gumi would eventually give up, as he was sure they would, and wanted Sango freed of the burden of her guilty conscious in regards to them. He had misty hopes that Sango would eventually start to regard him as much as he regarded her, and had no idea how that could be brought about. It was all rather muddled and confusing, and he didn't quite know how to phrase it. So he just made his hazy wish known, and trusted that the power of the Jewel would know best what to do about it.

The rest he would leave up to fate or chance or whatever other cosmic being out there might happen to take an interest in it---though he honestly didn't believe there was anything such thing up there who might care; the gods had forsaken _him_ long before he had ever forsaken _them…_

The glowing aura of power that surrounded his sword and outstretched palm seemed to darken for a moment at that thought, but then it brightened infinitesimally, growing a shade paler as if it had finally hit upon something it understood. With a miasmic swirling of feathering radiance, it wrapped itself around the giant halberd in a dancing trail of flickering specks of ethereal light before trickling away into the darkness of the night, finally vanishing as if it had never been summoned.

Bankotsu felt a faint, tingling reminder in the outstretched fingers of his hand, but that was all. With a curious look of satisfaction, he dropped his touch upon the halberd's silk-wrapped blade, and it was with casual indifference that he sat down beside it, leaning his head back against the same tree as his sword, closing his eyes and finding his own way into sleep…

_8888888888888888_

The dust of long, empty years lay thick and heavy on the stoned testaments of the past. The armored priestess, her sword arm thrust back, ever-ready to pierce the twining neck of the giant dragon who roared angry defiance with teeth-bared jaws opened wide to snap her in two, were stilled for untold centuries into the last moments of life, a frozen tableau of an end that had never come.

The deep hole in the priestess's chest, where once her heart lay beating, and which seemed to have been thrust violently forth, out of her stoned body, glowed faintly in the dark whispering shadows of the long-abandoned tomb. A trickle of pink and fuchsia-touched light, mere pinpoints of iridescent life, gathered in and around that pierced opening to dance. The sightless eyes, raised forever in anger and denial against the powerful demon who would have slain her, seemed to glow with a faint, hallowed blue light, as if awareness stirred within that stoned cavity.

An answering gleam came from the reddened eye of the dragon who faced her, its sullen miasma touched with ancient evil. The pale blue light of purity in the stone miko's eyes brightened imperceptibly, but the dragon's malice stirred, as if in answer to the unspoken challenge that had bound them both for eternity, forever striving for supremacy. Long had the demon's aura been fueled by the foul darkness that surrounded and tainted the shattered Jewel of Four Souls, but there might, just might, be a chance that Midoriko could win free in the end, though the selfish desires of a single man's heart were small comfort to rest one's hopes upon. The demon understood this, and the bloodied light in his stony gaze seemed to waver with malicious glee.

But the pale blue glow in the sightless eyes of the dead warrior-priestess remained, a silent whisper of faith in the shadowed-etched darkness…


	9. Chapter 9

Disclaimer: I do not own Inuyasha, etc. This story is for entertainment purposes only.

_REDEMPTION_

Summary: Specters of the past bring forth questions for the future. Can she save his soul, or will he wander forever in darkness?

_WORDS_

_nen'eki - mucus_

_haori - a short-tailed jacket worn with hakama (pants) and usually over a kimono_

_neko - cat (Kirara)_

_kitsune - fox (Shippo)_

WARNING! DARK IMAGERY AND ADULT TOPICS, RUN-ON SENTENCES, LOTS OF POTTY MOUTH AND MAYBE SOME MORE WATER SPORTS XD

_A/N - So Bankotsu appears quite short in the anime, but then, so does Sango. One website put Bankotsu's height at 5'4, Sango's at 5'1 or 5'2 and Inuyasha's at 5'9. On the anime, it appears Bankotsu and Inuyasha are much the same size, so I have decided to put both of them at 5'10 cuz 5'9 seems just that much shorter, lol, and I like a good eight inches between San and Ban. And as I just happen to be 'Fate', I can pull a thread here, tug a string there, and voila! Instant height adjustment! (Wish it were always that easy…)_

_Explanations and expostulations aside, I want to thank readers for their reviews, they give me the warm and fuzzies and feed my not inconsiderable ego. Wonder how I fit that big head through the front door? (Fate)_

_CHAPTER NINE_

Waking up in the morning after sleeping all night on the cold, hard earth, a tree's root for your pillow and a smelly, itchy horse-blanket for a thin mantlewas not that great. Waking up to the bulging red eyes of a hungry nen'eki demon was definitely not fun. Staring up into the wide-gaping mouth of a double row of fanged teeth was distinctly uncomfortable. Being dribbled on by about ten gallons of snot and salivating drool out of said slobbering mouth was just downright _disgusting_.

Sango watched in horrified fascination as a huge, warty, yellow-green tongue flicked from side to side inside that gaping mouth, as if deciding which part of her would prove the tastier. She had no intention of becoming that thing's breakfast though, and with a shout she rolled out of the way, kicking her left foot out to distract the foul youkai as she staggered to her feet.

Her ankle, lightly bruised in the battle with the bear youkai days before, did not like being used as an impromptu club. Throbbing its message of discontent right up the nerves of her calf and leg, Sango ignored the pain in order to whirl around, looking for anything she might use as a weapon. Diving for the lumpish huddle of the packs, she felt the shadow of that giant, ugly demon loom over her, howling with anger that its breakfast was proving not so easy to catch.

Sango's eyes widened as she saw the flash of Bankotsu's giant halberd just in time to duck down on all fours as it flew over her head, though she need not have. The blade was aimed at the giant, mucus-dripping blob behind her, which it easily split in two, from neck to base.

"Damn it! I thought I got all of them!" The mercenary growled as he flicked mucus-ridden ichor from his giant blade and contemplated the shuddering, gluttonous mass of wavering flesh that still stood, though he had just split it diagonally in half.

Sango's brain tried to tell her something, tried its best to remind her with enough time to get out of the way, but it all happened so fast she could only shout out, _"Duck!", _before curling herself into as tight a little ball as she could.

"Huh?" Bankotsu frowned down at her, but it was already too late.

The demon exploded, and the confused mercenary's whole body disappeared in a raining flood of warty flesh and mucus-covered ichor and slime. Sango felt the disgusting tidal wave of snot and slime splatter over her and convulsively shuddered, holding her breath for as long as she could as that seemingly unending rain of destroyed demon flesh splat on the earth around her, one nice squishy piece slapping against her slime-covered cheek in a final insult.

The horse, hobbled out of the way, nickered uneasily into the abrupt silence, and Sango finally felt safe enough to sit back up. Wiping the slime from her eyes as best she could with snot-covered hands, she blinked down at herself and grimaced. Her clothing, which had been pretty abused over the last few days, was now ruined. Something dripped down the side of her hair to land in the dirt beside her with a squishy splat. Shuddering with feminine disgust, she got shakily to her feet to go looking for Bankotsu.

The mercenary lay unmoving, knocked off his feet and flat on his back. He was draped from head to toe in a thick blanket of putrid, yellow-green slime. His giant sword, stretched out beside him, was just as battered and covered in rotting demon guts. Sango took one look at his rather stunned expression, and burst out laughing.

Bankotsu looked like he was ready to kill that demon all over again, or maybe he was just ready to kill _her_ for laughing down at him.

"I told you to duck!" She choked at the flash in his blue eyes, holding sides which hurt from laughing so hard. She tried to stagger toward him, in order to help him up, but she leaned too hard on her bad ankle, and went down with a muffled yelp of pain.

Bankotsu slowly sat up, his disgust at their current situation quite plain to see. Glaring at the innocent-looking half-mooned hilt still clutched in his hand, he growled at the imbedded shards, "This is _not_ what I was expecting, damn you."

Sango blinked at his strange words, but then forgot them as something cold, wet, and slimy dribbled past the collar of her yukata to make an oozy path down the curve of her spine.

Kami, was that ever a disgusting feeling!

_Ew._

The horse stared at them, its nostrils widening as he took in the rotting stench that rose from their clothes and skin. Detecting no further youkai menace in the tickling breeze that now crept through the silent clearing, he bent his head back down to graze with a rather disdainful expression, his tail flicking in silent laughter at the two would-be demon slayers.

"Gah." Bankotsu finally got to his feet, looking down at himself with a rather rueful expression. "This is just gross."

Sango heartily agreed, trying to pluck the wet, snotty fabric of her yukata away from her skin. "I could definitely use a bath."

"As could I." Bankotsu grimaced as his snot-saddened bangs flopped green goo back into his eyes. But then his expression lightened, as if something had just dawned on him. With a smug smile, he turned to her. "What would you do, taijiya, if I could grant your wish?"

"Love you for a million years." Sango muttered, borrowing one of Kagome's favorite expressions without really thinking that much about it, distracted as she was by the slime that was trying to ooze itself further down her back. She squirmed, trying to get away from the squishy feeling, and didn't really pay that much attention as Bankotsu's teeth flashed in a grin.

"Heh. Then I shall grant your wish, taijiya."

"What?" Sango blinked up at him, distrustful of the sudden gamine grin that lit his snotty face. "What are you…?"

But he ignored her half-hearted protests as he scooped her up into his strong arms, muffling her ire as he strode quickly across the clearing and back under the trees by smirking, "You want a bath or not?"

A bath! Oh, for all the love of heaven and earth, she would give her right arm, bruised as it was, to be clean right now…

And so she made no further protest as he lumbered through the forest, ignoring the slimy remains of other nen'eki he must have killed for the anticipation of being able to wash this nasty muck off of her skin. She could hear the growing sounds of splashing water, and plenty of it, and she was startled as they suddenly emerged from the closely-grown brush to find themselves beside a small waterfall, splashing down from the jutting rocks of the hill above to form a small, swirling pool below.

"It'll be cold, but it's clean." Bankotsu gave meager warning before dropping her in with a hearty splash.

Sango yelped as the freezing water enveloped her from head to toe. Sputtering back up, she was ready with a furious comment, which died as she saw him climb right in after her.

"What are you…?" She managed to sputter between chattering teeth. Gods, but this water was _cold!_

"Washing, what else?" Bankotsu shrugged out of his slime-encrusted armor, tossing it aside on the grassy bank. Quickly unknotting the tie of his simple obi, he stripped off his haori and got busy with the wrapped black cloth that hugged his lower legs and feet.

He finally got a good look at Sango's expression, and paused.

"What?"

"You're…" Sinking up to her chin in the lightly swirling water that didn't seem quite so cold now that she had gotten used to it, she dropped her eyes and bit her lip, trying not to stare at the tanned, well-muscled chest revealed by the discarded haori.

Bankotsu looked down at himself. "Oh. Yeah. Right."

Now that he seemed to understand her acute embarrassment, she expected him to leave. But, thick-headed lout that he was, he didn't. Instead, he decided that his hakama were enough to preserve his modesty, and continued pulling the wrapped black fabric from off his feet and dropping them on the bank so that he could dive under the water's surface with a rather casual disregard for Sango's blushing indignation.

Scrubbing the slime from his skin, Bankotsu made quick work of unbraiding his hair, so that he could duck under the rather handy waterfall several times to wash it clean. Sango slunk away to the furthest corner of the small pool as Bankotsu stood up on the rocks just below the short falls, using the thundering spray to wash the last bits of demon-spewed ichor from his skin.

He stood there, relishing the thundering spray on his skin as it smoothed away tensed muscles, and dragged his hands through his long, black hair, freed from its usual braid, with a rather careless indifference for the picture he made of himself. Muscles rippled across his shoulders and chest, which narrowed into a flat vee before disappearing beneath the draping fabric of his damp hakama, which clung closely to his wet skin.

His _white_ hakama.

Which hid nothing of what it should.

Sango stared at him with wide brown eyes.

A blue eye peeked open, and a black brow twitched as his mouth quirked.

"You okay, taijiya?"

Sango's mouth---which had been hanging open like a gutted fish's---snapped shut, and she dropped her eyes as a furious blush climbed up her cheeks.

There was a wry chuckle as Bankotsu dove back into the pool beneath the falls, easily slicing through the water to emerge just in front of her. "How come you haven't washed yourself off yet?"

Sango contemplated her fingernails, which suddenly seemed _very _intriguing.

"That's right. You're wounded." Bankotsu said to himself, as if that explained her reticence.

"I'm fine." Sango whispered low enough for him to pretend to ignore.

"No problem. I can help you." Bankotsu gave her bowed head a cheeky grin, enjoying her discomfiture.

"No, that's all ri…"

Scooping her up, he ignored her muffled protests as he dragged her back to the waterfall. Settling her on a convenient rock at the base, he pushed her head back so that the splashing water could stream through her tangled hair. Sango sputtered as water splayed over her head and shoulders in a pounding rhythm that soon had her sighing with utter contentment as it eased the tenseness from her shoulders and back.

She allowed herself a beautiful moment of utter relaxation as the water splashed away the nasty squish from her skin, and was surprised to feel a slight tug on her left hand as Bankotsu pulled the dirty bandages from her palm. The skin beneath was slightly tender, but the cold water felt good on the healed burns. Sango experimentally flexed her fingers, happy to note that there was no damage to the webbing between her fingers.

Nothing if not methodical, Bankotsu pulled the similar bandages from around her right wrist and left ankle, though Sango hissed a few times when he tried to turn them this way and that.

"Not as bad as I thought." He grinned down at her, giving her captured foot a quick pat before letting go.

Sango blinked up at him as the falling water dragged her hair down her back and shoulders in heavy, sweeping tangles. She was suddenly conscious of just how absurd she must look, with her hair dragging into her eyes, and the sodden fabric of her dirty yukata dragging wetly against her skin. His eyes were such an intense blue as he stared down at her, his smile slowly fading as she stared back up at him. Her breath seemed suddenly to come short, and she could feel her skin prickle with awareness, and not from the chilled caress of the water that poured and splashed around her. She could feel her nipples harden, and a slow blush dawned across her cheeks as she realized that her yukata, while a mix of rose and cream and splotched here and there with the dirty remains of the nen'eki youkai's slime, must still be as revealing as Bankotsu's white hakama to his darkened gaze.

Inky black tangles whorled across his forehead, partly obscuring the cross tattooed thereon. His eyes searched hers for a long, breathless moment as he leaned close, the warmth of his breath tingling across her senses and making her breath catch, wondering what he would do as a strong hand came up to lightly cup her cheek.

Was he about to…to _kiss_ her?

Her eyes widened at the thought, and she didn't know what she would have done if he had. But he blinked, as if coming back to himself, and stood back up, withdrawing the warm touch of his palm from her cheek to scratch the back of his neck while giving her a somewhat rueful glance. "Ah, well, then. I guess I should go and fetch you some clean clothes, eh? And maybe a comb? That'd be nice, eh?"

He continued to back-pedal, in both words and feet, until he had finally managed to haul himself out of the pool. Turning with almost unnatural speed, he was gone, and Sango could only sit and stare after him, wondering suddenly if what had almost happened actually _had_ almost happened.

_9999999999999999_

The tiny cream-colored neko curled into herself, deeply asleep. The air around her seemed to shimmer with poignant emotion, a hovering sadness that was slowly fading as the youkai's dreaming mind was caught in the gentle blue caress of a comforting spirit.

_:Find comfort, little stalwart.:_ A mutli-toned voice, the harmonies of one who knew well of this world and the next, seemed to blend and meld into a golden thread of love and communion, reassurance and affection. _:Your Sango lies safe. Trust me in this, little neko.:_

Kirara sighed softly to herself, her tiny paws twitching as if she would bound forth to that guardian spirit's comforting embrace. Though her physical body did not move, her dreaming self was touched by softly glowing hands that pet and stroked the sad youkai's worries away as all-too-knowing, star-touched black eyes stared deep into the red glow of the fire-cat's worshipful gaze.

Midoriko laid a gentle hand on the neko's head, in comfort and benediction, and whispered again in that gods-blessed voice of golden warmth, enfolding and embracing the lonely wanderer, _:Worry not, little one. You will remain separated for a time, but know that she is with me. Your questing friends will not know this, you must comfort them as you may, but there is more at stake here than just their fears. Trust me in this, little Kirara, and guard against the day when I shall summon you, as your mother and your mother's mother have for all of these long years…:_

The tensed shoulders of the sleeping neko relaxed imperceptibly, and thus reassured, she fell into deeper dreams, the soft blue glow of the warrior-priestess's presence soothing her fears gently away in the soft caress of night's end.

_9999999999999999_

His wet clothing took up four whole bushes. Bankotsu stepped back and studied his draped handiwork with a cocked brow of appraisal. Not bad…though his white haori and hakama looked more like drying bed-sheets than good silk. He was just lucky he had had the foresight to have two more sets of white clothing made. He wore the more tattered of the two, and a ragged tear that had been mended rather ineptly by his own hand marred the finer fabric across one sleeve where someone had once thought to chop off his right arm at the shoulder. Ha---that damn fool had just got in a lucky slice, it had been easy enough to dispatch the so-called warrior who had turned his second best uniform into his third…

Speaking of his second-best, he grinned as he saw the taijiya emerge hesitantly from the forest, stepping gingerly in what must be rather large garments for her smaller frame. She had not been able to tuck the long kimono into the proffered pants, and the haori came clear down to her knees, or where her knees would have been could you even see them through the wide balloon of his over-large hakama on her shorter frame.

She had managed to use his spare obi to tie the kimono and pants up as close to her trim waist as she could, and had used the black strips of cloth he used for footwear to merely bind up the hakama just above her ankles, so that she wouldn't trip as she walked. He'd have to do something about footwear for her, she couldn't be walking around in bare feet for too much longer. It would be nice to get her some decent clothes. This outfit was even more ridiculous than her yukata and peasant-pants.

He wished suddenly that Jakotsu were around. Jakotsu certainly knew more about women's clothing and fashions than he would ever have a call for. Damn. Funny how the pang of missing his former friend could hit him at the strangest times…

So he distracted himself by smirking at her while inspecting her rather absurd outfit from head to toe. She gave him a disgruntled look, and ran a hand through her unbound hair, which hung sleek and untangled down her back, slowly drying in the light breeze that playfully circled through the small clearing.

"It'll take some time for our clothes to dry. You want something to eat?" He asked after the practical. She nodded, absently scanning the glade for a clear bush in which to spread out her own damp clothing. She had managed to scrub most of the demon guts off of the rather sturdy pants but her yukata looked pretty beat up. She'd done pretty good with no soap, though.

They had plenty of time, so Bankotsu took a moment to gather more wood and rekindle their campfire. Tossing a handful of this and that into the small pot he had thriftily filched from the farming stead days before, he was able to present her with a more varied meal than before, with the addition of stewed apricots for desert. Having spread her clothing to dry from tree and bush, she accepted her portion with quiet thanks and they ate in companionable silence.

He took the time to study her, and thought that she was utterly beautiful, even looking like a child mocking its elders by getting dressed up like the festival fool in clothing far too big for her. The sun sweetened the clearing, touching brown tints in her raven tresses and adding a certain light to her deep brown eyes. He was trying to decide just what color of wood her eyes were…deep mahogany? Damp oak?…when she looked up at him, making him feel a little guilty for catching him staring at her so stupidly.

"Are you finished? I can wash your bowl…" She offered somewhat shyly as she stood up.

"Eh, yeah." He handed them over. She was as good as her word, taking the pot as well. She was rather quick about it, too, and he cocked a grin at her as she returned, cleaned utensils in her hands. "I don't mind cooking if you do the washing. I hate washing."

"You're rather good at it. Cooking, I mean." She offered, seemingly ill at ease. "It's not something I would expect of a…well…"

_"'A cold-blooded killer?_'" He teased her, smirking as a faint blush stained her cheeks and she looked down at the various crap held in her arms. He rather liked making her blush. She was pretty easy to tease. Standing up, he sauntered over to relieve her of her burdens and pack them away. Looking down at her, he smiled. "I'm more than just a mercenary, Sango."

"Yeah." She said, looking back up at him, and just as quickly dropping her eyes back down to her feet. He grinned, thinking she smelled much better now that she didn't reek of horse sweat and demon snot.

And for just a moment, he thought how great it would be just to lean over and kiss her lightly on those soft lips, just as he had almost done back there at the waterfall, and the very memory of her there, with the water falling over her neck and shoulders, plastering her yukata to her skin so that nothing was left to fancy, and the captured water droplets that lingered on thick, curling black lashes and sparkled like rare diamonds in the golden sunlight, was enough to tighten his groin with more than desire and need, and by all the Boils on the monkey-god's bare pink ass, he wanted to, more than he could ever remember ever wanting it ever as much, but holy fart, he did not just want to maul her over and frighten her with the fierce desires that lent fire to the growing need in his loins, and so he did what any sane man would---he stepped back, gulping down much-needed air, and went to go put those damn dishes in that damn pack, hoping to high stinking heaven she didn't notice that part of him that was so embarrassingly now evident.

He respected her too much for that. But _damn_ he could use that ice-cold waterfall right now…

Thinking of that freezing ass water was almost as good, and when he had finally got hold of himself and turned back around, he found her plucking at the damp fabric of her yukata, as if by pretending to be doing something useful she could pretend that she wasn't as discomfited as she pretended not to be. She avoided looking at him, and he didn't like it. So he offered her something he knew would get her attention.

"I have a piece of ribbon, if you want to use it to tie your hair up."

It was pretty stupid, when he thought about it, but it worked.

"Really?" Her look of astonished gratitude made him feel dog-guilty that he hadn't offered it to her before, and so he rummaged through his packs for anything else he might find to give her. There wasn't much there, though, and so he flopped down on the grass beside the packs with a rather childishly looking pout of disgruntled disappointment.

She had pulled the simple wooden comb he had given her from out of her sleeve and proceeded to rearrange the long length of her tresses into a high ponytail at the top of her head, so that the ends would remain free to dry in the warmth of the sun. He watched the slow movements of the comb as she patiently brushed it through her long black hair like one mesmerized, and, swallowing, abruptly dropped down on his back in the grass with his arms crossed over his face, squinting up at the sun so that he could somehow blind himself from that rather pretty sight.

Seeking anything to distract him from his lecherous thoughts, he asked into thin air, "So you know what the nen'eki are. I've rarely seen 'em. They're kinda stupid and cowardly, like the buta, aren't they? Wonder what brought them out. There was a whole pack of the nasty things that I chased into the forest before that one attacked you."

"They might have been attracted by the Jewel shards you carry." She said rather mildly, considering the subject. He cracked a blue eye in her direction, but she seemed oddly unaffected by the topic, as if her mind slid by it and did not linger. "I've only fought them once, myself. They're pretty nasty."

Huh. Funny how she didn't even pause before changing the subject. He wondered what was causing that, but he had done enough thinking last night to make him shudder at the idea of digging up even more shit to mull over, and so he took it as it was with a mental shrug.

"Never saw anything explode like that." Bankotsu made a face at the memory.

There were some experiences better left _never_ to be known.

_9999999999999999_

The small neko lay curled into a tight ball on the edge of the maroon-colored sleeping bag in the arms of a dejected-looking kitsune cub. Light had already pierced the cloud-covered horizon, but Kagome did not have the heart yet to awaken them to face another day of fruitless searching.

"Still can't sense 'em, koi?" Strong arms wrapped themselves around her lithe waist as Inuyasha nuzzled her neck with a show of affection he rarely demonstrated where others might see.

Kagome shook her head, her brown eyes sad. She was sure she had felt the unmistakable presence of several Jewel shards late yesterday afternoon, and the desperate group had hurried to follow the dusty track her sketchy feeling had led them down. There were signs of a temporary camp made just off the road some ways back, but they had finally dead-ended at a strange, abrupt turning of the road to the left, where it emerged from the darker woods into low-hilled valleys, with some small signs of civilization beyond.

There was something about the abrupt turning of the road that made Kagome's neck itch. She could have sworn that there might have once been a path that had forked off to the right, where huge clumps of tangling thorn-brush now banished. But the thick leafy trees and brush that blocked that whole side of the dirt road would have taken years to grow, and there was no way Bankotsu could have fought through that mess, not with a girl and a horse in tow.

For Inuyasha could tell that much from their fading scent, that Sango was alive, and that she was probably tied down over the backside of horse like any sack of grain. Kagome was worried deeply about her friend. What would have made----

She shuddered, feeling that sudden, sharp tug on the harp-strings of her soul, as if she were a mere instrument and the shards of the Shikon no Tama the lyricist who would pluck the notes forth.

"Inuyasha…"

"What is it, Kagome?" Miroku's head rose from where he had drowsed against the trunk of a solid tree, staff cradled in his folded arms. His blue eyes scanned hers, his expression unreadable.intent and watchful

"Jewel shards." Kagome murmured, turning in Inuyasha's embrace to follow the diminishing direction. "And there are a _lot_ of them."

The hanyou's claws curled around the worn hilt of his father's fang, his amber eyes lit within. "Where, Kagome? Where are they headed?"

"To the left…down that road." Kagome said as one entranced. "Though they lead deeper into the forest, and not toward those valleys."

"Left." Inuyasha nodded sharply at Miroku to awaken Kirara and Shippo. There was a muffled protest from the kitsune cub, who stretched little paws up to the lightening heavens above as the dawn cracked open the face the of sky. With a wriggle of his copper-hued tail, Shippo blinked open his wide, green eyes and jumped to his feet as Kirara's small form was swathed in flames, transforming herself into the larger, saber-toothed feline who would be better able to carry them all, chasing after that ethereally spectral draw.

Kagome quickly scrambled up onto Inuyasha'a back as Miroku mounted Kirara, abandoning their camp with little thought as the hanyou's amber eyes glinted into gold, touched by the first rays of the rising sun into molten metal, hard and unbending.

"_Gotcha_." He growled, meaning the mercenary, and leapt high into the air.

Tightening her arms around his wide, red-clad shoulders, Kagome could only hope.

_Sango-chan, please be all right!_

_9999999999999999_

Sango was _not_ all right.

In fact, she didn't know quite what to do. Plucking at the still-damp fabric of her tree-spread yukata, she wrinkled her brow in thought. How could she broach the subject that kept nagging at her mind? Glancing sideways under lowered lashes, she watched as Bankotsu, bent double over his giant halberd with polishing cloth in hand, sat back and raked the sweaty tangles of his black bangs off of his forehead with his free hand before bending back down to his task.

"Wanting something, taijiya?" He carelessly asked, his attention seemingly all on his work.

"What?" Sango blinked, turning her head to look at him, a blush staining her cheeks. The mercenary had taken his white haori off so that he wouldn't dirty his last clean shirt, or so he had explained while giving her a smirking smile. His tanned skin glistened with the slight sweat of his vigorous exertions on behalf of his beloved sword, and Sango bit her lip as she watched the play of muscles across his wide shoulders.

Sitting back on his heels with a sigh, Bankotsu turned his blue eyes to stare back at her, a black brow quirking up in amusement. "Well?"

"What?" Sango's fingers worried her yukata, wrinkling the damp fabric with studied indifference.

"Heh." Bankotsu's knowing grin just made Sango seethe.

Crossing her arms over her chest, she turned fully so that she could glare at him. "What?"

Bankotsu shrugged. "You were the one wanting to ask something, not me."

"How could you know that?" His second, even more casual shrug made her want to hit something---namely, him---and scream out her frustration over how easily it was he could get under her skin. She wasn't that stupid, however, so she just settled for whirling around and stalking toward the horse for lack of anything else to do, just so she could get that little bit away from him and just how much it was that he unsettled her.

He was quickly on his feet and Sango nearly did shriek as she felt a calloused palm circle her elbow to tug her back around to face him. He stood over her, looming so close that she had to tilt her head back to look up at him. She felt her breath catch as he grinned down at her widened brown eyes.

"Well, taijiya? What is it you keep running from?"

_You._

Sango blushed at the traitorous thought. So she just blurted out the last question she wanted to ask. "Why did you kill them?"

"Huh?" He actually blinked in surprise, his hand falling from her elbow to stare down at her with a frown. "Who?"

Sango felt the heat on her flushed skin, but she really had to know. "Those peasants at the abandoned farm. Why did you kill them?"

It was a question that had burned in her heart, and perhaps it was only a front for asking why he had killed so many innocent people he didn't really need to.

"What?"

It was the last reaction she had expected, but the startled disgruntlement on his face made her heart flutter in her chest for reasons too complicated for her to want to consider. Still, she had to know.

"Why them? What did they do?" She recklessly pressed.

"I didn't kill them." He denied flatly, his blue eyes opaque.

"You didn't?" Sango pursued.

"No."

"Then who…?" She asked, rather breathlessly.

His eyes were dark. "They were all dead when I found them. Convenient, that."

_Convenient?_

"What?"

They were like parrots with only one word to cack repetitively between them.

"The place was empty, except for those two bandits who had killed the peasants off before we got there. Those two weren't that hard for _me_ to kill."

"Who? The bandits?"

He gave her a disgusted look, crossing his arms over his chest. "They were really rather pathetic, actually. Not much of a fight. Probably why they went around slaughtering peasants who wouldn't be able to put up too much of a defense."

Sango surprised them both by reaching up to lightly kiss him on the cheek, standing on tiptoe with her hands lightly clasping his wide shoulders so she wouldn't overbalance and fall on him as she did so. Whispering softly, her brown eyes almost honey-warm, she said, "Thank you."

Before he could take advantage of her rather close proximity, Sango stepped back with a blush and hurried away like one arrow-struck. Bankotsu stood, a slowly dawning grin creeping up to surprise him with its almost giddy glee.

"Huh."

_9999999999999999_

Nibbling on the tender young shoots that grew just under the sheltering, wide-swept branches of the giant tree, the rabbit felt something that made him freeze instinctively. Nose twitching, he abandoned his tasty feast to stare around the forest with wide brown eyes. Long, velvet-soft ears swept up, swiveling in all directions for any signs of danger.

A faint rustle in the thick brush behind him made him tremble. The scuff of a sandal on the leaf-ridden ground had him leaping for the nearest chance at safety, too wise in the ways of the hunted to stay still for what might mean his end, and their next meal.

The small child who emerged from the brush stared after the vanishing rabbit with poignant silence. Her black eyes might have been sad, had they been able to show any such emotion. A flicker in the small, cracked bauble held in one white hand turned her attention away from the vanished rabbit and back to the glinting fuchsia swirls held within the half-sphere of seething power.

"They follow." She said aloud, thoughtfully, as if to herself.

The fuschian light in the cracked crystal seemed to brighten and swirl in answer.

Raising her empty eyes back up to the still forest around her, the white child of the Void walked slowly past the giant tree, her steps measured and sure, as if her path had been laid on her by another's will and not her own. The soft tread of her sandals was soon lost in the distance, until a small nose, twitching furiously, ventured forth from out of the brush. A cautious paw touched the ground, another step, and the rabbit turned its head to look after the small, lonely child who had vanished among the distant, shadow-ridden trees…


	10. Chapter 10

Disclaimer: I do not own Inuyasha, etc. This story is for entertainment purposes only.

_REDEMPTION_

Summary: Specters of the past bring forth questions for the future. Can she save his soul, or will he wander forever in darkness?

_WORDS_

_neko - cat_

_Hiraikotsu - Sango's giant boomerang, made of demon bone_

WARNING! DARK IMAGERY AND ADULT TOPICS, BAD WORDS AND SPOILERS (EPISODE 122+)

_A/N - This was actually a hard chapter to write. Spent many agonized hours over it, and I must humbly thank my darling LaTausha for help in dark hours. This chapter is dedicated to you, Aetos. (Fate)_

_CHAPTER TEN_

And so the days unfolded, like precious pearls dropping one by one from a released strand to fall into his cupped palm, a sight of wonder and magnificent to behold.For as each day passed, Bankotsu seemed to look anew upon the world that had always seemed so barren and wasted, so small and callous. All that was rich in this world was opened once more for his tasting, and that more guileless part of him that had always been kept hidden away and protected behind a hardened exterior of cold disdain and uncaring swagger was allowed a bit more freedom as he drew inner strength from the woman at his side.

She, too, seemed to unfurl like a shy little flower greeting the warm breath of the sun after a long night of dark and lonely shadows. Spirits scarred and battered by all that was harsh and unforgiving in this world slowly healed as they used one another's strengths to shield the weaker and lesser sides of their dual natures, supporting one another like any shield-brother or loyal-sworn companion.

Bankotsu rather liked her laugh, which could be light and dancing, unexpected as it was. It seemed to burst forth from her, and she always seemed surprised even as her brown eyes lit with merriment and her mouth curved up in a smile. So he strove to bring it out of her at every opportunity, even resorting to outright tickling of any spot he could dare to reach when her mood became too serious and withdrawn, as was often her wont. Her gasps of outrage would make him grin as she struggled to no avail, for he had discovered (quite by accident), that she was _very_ ticklish, and not in any one area.

She often had her revenge, though, for she had had an extensive training in hand-to-hand combat from a father who worried about her weaker strength against many a stronger foe. Not that she was weak, by any means, and she showed that strength and speed by how quickly she could drop him on his ass with a casual kick to the back of his knee, or a sudden, sharp push to his side that had him sprawling over with a startled yell as he went down in a tangling tumble of arms and legs while she stood over him, smug and preening, or wiping the tears from her eyes while laughing so hard she had to hold sides which hurt from doing so…

At times they acted like the youngest of children, fighting over the littlest thing, squabbling over who knew more than the other or whose opinion was weighed more heavily by experience and actually knew what they were talking about. She was as stubborn as a mule, and he was more than a match for her there. Their arguments were half-hearted though, and quickly forgiven as he was quick to break off with a cocky grin and a sly comment that had her glaring furiously one minute and laughing at her stubborn self the next.

She was his silent comfort, and would often draw him out of the long, broody silences he could so easily fall into with a hand laid lightly on shoulder or arm, a mere offering of her silent presence to keep the darker thoughts at bay. The wealth of her simple understanding of the shadowy wraiths from his dark past that would haunt him at those times would serve more poignantly than any gifted spattering of awkward words to dispel it, and he drew more strength from her steady, quiet presence than she could ever know or realize.

Often they fell silent, comfortable with each other in the quiet relaxation of topic and tease. Her simple presence would soothe him, as she fell asleep leaning next to him, their backs against a steady tree trunk and her head propped on his shoulder. He would lightly touch the tousled black hair of her bangs with a mixed feeling of trepidation, comfort and awe, wondering at the strange closeness they shared. His eyes would take on a tender look that she would never see in waking, and he treasured the quiet peace in his heart as old wounds slowly healed and dark burdens were laid aside, if but for a single, long moment of aching awareness.

For he did not see the same wonderingly soft look in her own dark eyes as they would rest on him for those brief moments when she could look upon him without danger that he would see the vulnerable feelings laid bare in her opened gaze. If he suddenly turned to grin or smirk at her, the flicker of emotion-filled yearning was gone, armored against the rejection that might come of baring her soul to another. For still they were wary of unburdening too much, and they had had too little time to trust yet that the other would not hurt them, even unintentionally.

But they took the most from each moment that they could, and drew closer as that basic understanding that defines the deepest of friendship and closest of lovers bound them ever so slowly together. He strove hard to find out the simple things that she might like or prefer, and would try his damnedest to get them, seeking to impress on her just how much she might need him, even for the little things---like hunting up the wild mushrooms she craved like a greedy child for sweets, or trading away the last flask of his precious sake for woven sandals to protect her bare feet.

And when he finally came upon a village large enough to be able to take his pierced money in place of bartered goods, he paid out coins for more ointment, bandages and herbs rather than the good vintage of rice-wine he had been eyeing, turning away with a dramatic, heavy sigh but lighter of heart for the choice he had made. With the additional medicines he had bought, he was better able to heal the wrist and ankle that had made her seem so helpless before.

And if he occasionally looked at her with the deep blue intensity of awakened desire, he quickly smothered it behind a careless veneer of casual camaraderie. For he understood her shy modesty and her awkward uncertainty when it came to men and how to deal with them on any other basis than as fellow warriors and men-at-arms. The unfamiliar ground of man and maid as they related to one another made her feel inept and stupid, feelings which were all to ready to turn into questions of her own competence in other areas to which she felt she failed at in some inner measure of her own insane creation. It was a path toward easy depression and self rebuke that he did not want her to take, and so he avoided any gesture that she might consider flirtatious, with a care of her feelings that would have stunned anyone who might have known him before, when he had not given a good damn about what others felt, so long as he could do as he chose.

But she was made of sterner stuff than he often gave her credit for, and she would often surprise him in some small way that he was not expecting, like when she asked if she might use first his several daggers of varied size and weight to strengthen the weakness from her wounded right wrist, and then humble permission to try lifting his giant halberd, once the strength and flexibility had returned with the exercise of lighter items.

He had laughed and scoffed at her ability to lift his mighty weapon. Three normal men could not carry his beloved companion, what made her think that she, a _girl_, could ever do it? He thought the idea of watching her strain herself into tiring would be amusing, and so had granted his permission with smug disdain.

Her dark eyes had flashed, her jaw firming in what he called her 'stubborn mule' look, and she had grasped the leaning blade with both hands, her shoulders tensing. For a long moment, he was able to grin as he watched her silent struggle, even laughing outright as her arms shook with the effort of trying to lift the giant halberd. But he worried for the strain she put on herself, and was about to force her to let go in defeat when she astonished him by hefting the sword, slowly but steadily, inch by inch, until she held it at level with the ground. She could not hold the position long, and was forced to lower the blade faster than she had raised it, but he was still amazed that she could lift it at all.

His astonished expression must have spoke volumes, for she burst out laughing, even as she wiped the sweat from off her brow and staggered back to lean against the tree Banryuu shared with her. She gasped breathlessly as exertion and mirth caught up with her, and was too weary to even flinch back like she would normally have as he pulled a square of ragged cotton from out of the packs and carefully wiped the beads of sweat from neck and cheek.

She saw only the impressed admiration in his dark blue eyes, but there was warmth there as well, for she had done more than the unthinkable by lifting that giant sword---she had pulled his heart in to her keeping.

Which made him smile wryly---trust it to him to fall in love with the only woman who could ever lift his beloved sword. Though this one, beautiful and unheeding of that beauty as she was, could lift his other sword as well, and if he did not hurry up and back away from her right now, sweaty and tangled and glowing in smug triumph as she was, than it would become rather embarrassingly evident.

If she was surprised at how quickly he retreated, than she hid it well, only teasing him lightly that he was a sore loser.

Which he was.

For now that he had lost his heart to her, he became even more assiduous in his vow to keep her with him, trusting that he would one day be able to make her realize just how much she needed him, while denying how much it was that he now needed _her._

She seemed unknowing of the jealous thoughts that now nibbled at him, and while he strove to maintain the easy companionship that familiarity had lent them, it grew harder and harder to disguise from her just how intense his feelings were. For Bankotsu was not one to skimp once he had made up his mind on something, and he wholeheartedly accepted that she was the one and _only_ one who would ever be able to call up the strangely new and unsettling feelings within him. She seemed to have no knowledge of this new twist in his regard of her, and he was not one who would easily admit first that he had been totally and thoroughly trounced by her into the foils and foibles of love.

For a man in love was a stupid man, and well he knew it. A man in love was weakened by that most fragile and yet enduring of emotions into acts of idiocy that he made poor excuse for by saying it was all for love. Putting his heart into the keeping of another---could he trust her enough to keep it safe, to honor and treasure it, and perhaps, just perhaps, one day, _return_ it?

He _thought_ he might be able to, but there was still that niggling doubt that hovered in the back of his mind that trust was no easy a thing earned, and well did he have reasons enough not to trust anyone ever again. Time was his enemy in this, in that he had fallen so quickly and had not yet had the time to establish that unquestioning trust that would need to exist between them if ever love were to be returned and cherished unhindered by doubt and unfettered by uncertainty as it should be.

But could that trust ever be built upon the lies he had created by asking the aid of the Shikon shards embedded in Banryuu's hilt? For it was only with their help that Sango could temporarily forget the existence of her friends who, he hoped, were even now growing tired of the long days of fruitless searching and would finally give it all up---and her---as lost. For it was only then that he might lift the mental guard that wove itself around the girl's thoughts, making her mind slide across their faint memory with scant attention or heed.

For it hit him, that he played her false by veiling her true memories from her awareness. For occasionally her brown eyes would take on a faraway look, as if something nibbled at the back of her mind, and it was then that he, ever sensitive to her every mood, would quickly finger the cracked shards hidden in the great sword's crescent-shaped hilt, and quickly direct her musing thoughts in some new direction by asking her an abrupt question or lightly teasing her to stubborn, eye-flashing ire.

And if his blue eyes were hard at that particular moment, than it was with the renewed determination that maybe this was for the best. Because now that he had found her, he desired to keep her, and he knew deep down in the hidden recesses of his newly-awakened heart that while it was wrong, it was, perhaps, the only way he might do so.

For she needed him, though she did not know it yet.

Even more than he now needed her.

Right?

_1010101010101010_

The banked fire lent little light to the dark clearing. No moon danced overhead to part the black night with its milky, time-worn face, or to softly lighten the huddled forms who slept so wearily below. The monk, a kitsune and staff in his lap, leaned back against a sturdy tree, eyes closed and breaths slow and even. Two black-haired heads sheltered together in entwined arms, a sleeping bag draped over them with the red robe of the Fire Rat as their pillow.

Cracking a careful eye open, the saber-toothed neko cast a wary eye over her sleeping companions. Nothing stirred the still clearing except for the kitsune cub's soft snores. Exhausted as all of them were, the unwelcome respite of the night of the new moon was more needful than any of them wanted to admit. Patience and tempers had frayed as their hunt had led them deeper into wild forests none of them had ever penetrated before.

Everyone was discouraged and downcast at the endless chase that drew them on in a strangely arcing circle that had started out to the south and east and was slowly turning them back toward the shallow hills that undulated across the northwestern part of this region. They had suddenly realized today that they had nearly doubled back on their earlier trail, crossing a mere trace of a lonely road that seemed oddly familiar. It was Miroku who had pointed out that this was the road they had followed Bankotsu down long, worried-filled days before, and that they were cutting across forested territory they had once traveled alongside.

The continual frustration of their days-long search had all of them on edge. Inuyasha seethed, growling that the damn mercenary was merely playing a stupid game with them. Miroku, his eyes grave, remained silent, but determined to go on. Kagome, when continuously questioned by her impatient mate, remained stubbornly certain that the Jewel shards were just beyond them and just out of reach. But they could hardly give up, could they? For Sango was what drew them on far more than any consideration of shards or settling of old scores.

Kirara longed to tell them that all was fine with their young friend. But the ancient miko's warning kept the secret hidden in the neko youkai's heart, and she could only sigh and try and comfort as she may when they worried.

Which they did---deeply.

Raising her creamy head, Kirara tested the air for any sign of her comrades' waking. Nothing and no one stirred, and so she surreptitiously climbed to her feet. Walking soft as only a large cat could, the youkai circled around the banked embers of the fire, pausing to sniff over the huddled packs for the familiar scent of her missing friend. Batting aside the small pack she wanted, she lifted the bundled belongings carefully in her teeth, using the tied knots of the blue shawl's ends as a handy strap.

Ghosting back across the camp, the large neko dropped the small bundle beside the larger boomerang that Inuyasha had casually leaned against the third tree that ringed this small clearing. Twin tails lashed as Kirara considered the best way in which to transport the huge weapon. Her ears flicked back as one of the others moved slightly in their sleep, but they did not awaken to watch as the neko, decision made, reached up with one black paw to free up the tangled strap Sango normally used to carry the boomerang diagonally across her body from shoulder to waist, securing it to her back as she walked.

Whiskers twitching, the neko measured the space the strap's length would give and oozed herself, paw, shoulder and head, into what little space was available to her larger frame. The boomerang tilted against her, and the neko tensed, making as little sound as she dared, until it rested in a rather awkward position across shoulder and head. The strap dug uncomfortably into the creamy fur of her chest and under her right foreleg, but she would be able to carry it.

Picking up the abandoned bundle of Sango's clothing and armor with her teeth, the great cat crept almost daintily back across the clearing, until she reached the far edge, which was veiled by unbroken shadows. Casting a last look back on the camp with her red, glowing eyes, Kirara blinked them closed in a silent, fond farewell. She wished she could tell them where she was going, for they would worry, but they would soon be following her path, and she must trust to the timeless one in this, as she had in other matters.

It was Sango who needed her now, and with a buoyed heart, the neko youkai launched herself into the night's dark depths, the trail of her fiery feet soon flickering into mere pinpoints of orange-gleaming light as she ran across the cloud-wreathed sky.

_1010101010101010_

"Damn it!" Inuyasha, his silver hair and superior strength and senses restored by the fiery sun's ascension, grit his fanged teeth as his claws curled into a fist at the utter helplessness he felt at all the shit that kept happening to them.

"Sango's pack is gone, and so is Hiraikotsu." Miroku said, blue-black eyes grave and sensuous mouth tight with concern.

"Kirara!" Shippo sniffled, pounding a childish fist into the dirt of the leaf-ridden ground in strange emulation of the inu hanyou he would never willingly admit to imitating. Ready tears slipped down his reddened cheeks as he wailed the loss of yet another member of his 'family.'

"Kirara must have taken them." Kagome said with a worried frown as she hugged her arms across her chest in an attempt to keep hidden the sudden shiver of fear that crept down her spine.

"Why?" Inuyasha growled, a curled fist hitting his other palm with pent-up frustration. He had traced the neko's path to the edge of the clearing, where it disappeared at the point where she must have taken to the cloud-shredded sky above. The fiery sun, rising like a blood-bloated stain on the eastern horizon, cast a strange pall across the angry clouds that leached away the warmth of the morning. A chill wind rose, and the scent of coming rain and storms brooded on the tension-filled air.

But it was something else, something worse, that made the young miko pause.

"Inuyasha…" Kagome whispered, her brown eyes drawn to the concealing trees around them, a specter of fright crossing her white expression.

Even Shippo froze in the sudden silence.

"Demons." Miroku's bead-wrapped palm tightened on his be-ringed staff, which chimed faintly at the movement.

"Yeah." Inuyasha said, his golden eyes intent. "And there's a lot of 'em."

"Do you think…Kirara?" Kagome ventured tentatively.

"Maybe." Inuyasha said. But it was not likely.

"What are you waiting for?" Shippo yelled up at them, his fists on his hips as he glared round the tensed group with wide green eyes, tears forgotten.

"Shut up, runt." Inuyasha tossed back with a scowl, though it was a half-hearted volley, for they all heard the faint roar of challenge in the far distance, a roar muffled by the thickening grey clouds that were smothering the bloody promise of the glowering sun as the storm-swollen clouds quickly approached.

Kagome gathered up her bow and arrows, shouldering the quiver with a clattering protest of the jostled shafts within. Tucking her bow out of the way, she felt that faint stirring that told her of the close proximity of the shattered fragments of the Shikon no Tama.

"Inuyasha, the Jewel shards…they're close. _Very_ close." Kagome imparted anxiously as she clambered up on the hanyou's bent back. White claws tensed slightly as his arms curled around her bent legs.

"Let's go." Was all he said to Miroku, whose shoulder had suddenly sprouted a rusty-tailed kitsune with glittering green eyes, his little paws clinging grimly to the folds of the houshi's dark blue robes.

The monk merely nodded, and they were off, running for the tangled forest of brooding shadows as thunder grumbled menacingly from above.

_1010101010101010_

The ambience in the abandoned tomb slowly changed as expectant evil was stirred by a shift in the shared balance of power between miko and ancient menace. Something dark and sinister chuckled madly to itself in delighted anticipation as the weight of dormant power was spilt in its favor. The bulging orbs of the stone-entrapped dragon burned with a ghostly aura of red and fuchsia-touched light in a dancing glimmer of sadistic satisfaction as the staring, unseeing gaze of the warrior-priestess remained silent and still.

There was no answering flicker of challenging blue awareness in that dead gaze, and the trapped dominions of hell who had resided unwilling for so long in the dragon's stone body whispered their raspy dreams of final victory and conquest in that seemingly endless, centuries-long battle of wills between them. For they, themselves, made up half of the balance of what was good and what was vile in the worlds of this and the after, and their aim was ever to triumph over that which was pure and un-spoilt by their tainted, ever resentful, seething hatred.

They taunted the unresponsive stone miko, hissing their expectations and delight to one who seemed oddly contained and still, as if all hope had died within her…

_1010101010101010_

He had fallen asleep on his back, with his arms crossed lazily behind his head and the girl nestled into his side. Of course, Sango had gone to sleep lying more _beside_ him than _on_ him, but he had gently rearranged her so that she could be more comfortable with his chest as a hard pillow, and she had eventually draped herself closer to his warmth as the lengthening night chilled into the promise of icy rain in the creeping clouds of an early dawn, one split by the crimson, storm-warning grimace of an angry sun.

He felt the beast's presence long before the horse stamped and snorted nervously in its tethered graze. The shards in both body and blade stirred with dull warning, recognizing the demon's aura long before he could have detected it on his own. He waited, knowing the thing would likely approach prey that seemed more easily caught for being asleep and unguarded.

But the beast roared even as it pounced for his throat, the snarling cry of a grass-cat rippling across the sky as Sango abruptly woke up, protests muffled as he rolled her under him to protect her from the sharp, wide-spread claws reaching for them both. The horse screamed, fighting its tether as the shadow of the giant cat swept past it.

Bankotsu continued his roll, pulling the girl after him, as he bound to his feet and dove for his beloved Banryuu. Sango fought his hold on her wrist, and he nearly choked as she did the unthinkable. Wrenching herself free of him, she actually turned and ran right for the fire-cat, her brown eyes dancing and her arms spread wide in welcome.

_"Sango!" _He yelled, his soul bared in that heart-wrenched cry of fear.

She ignored him, actually embracing the great cream-colored beast with a sob of pure joy and recognition, the fogged half-wisps of memory constrained by his wish on the Jewel shards suddenly vanishing as her full awareness returned upon sight of her staunchest ally since childhood.

_"Kirara!" _Her cry was just as heart-torn as his, but it was for the neko, and not himand Bankotsu froze as the realization socked him right in the gut. For it was there, in the tear-swept, honeyed gaze she turned on the youkai, all the unfettered love and longing he had wished to see turned toward _him_. But it was all for _her, _the cream-colored cat who was purring like a small thunder-cloud and nuzzling the slender young slayer with every evidence of fond familiarity.

The sudden stab of jealousy that gripped him shocked the hell out of him, but a small part of him died at the seemingly abrupt betrayal of all his whispered hopes, and the chilling stab of it went straight to his heart, which clenched tight in his chest. And that part of him, which had laughed and scorned the weakness of so-called love just starting to kindle, now laughed the harder in contempt at emotions so easily wrung by so simple and petty a gesture on her part, given freely to another, and a _youkai_ at that, and _not_ to him_, never to him._

The malignly-fueled shards in his resurrected body and remade halberd glinted with taunting amusement, flaring to fuchsia-funneled life. The malice and hate that bathed the Jewel shards in pure evil enveloped him, pouring forth into the weakened vessel of his mind, torturing him with the renewed bitterness of dying hopes and dreams that he should never have contemplated in the first place. For she could never see him more than what he was---a cold-blooded killer, a mercenary of bought loyalty and dubious honor, who could be nothing more to her than her avowed enemy, and in the darkest parts of his soul, where the denied rage of a sobbing, helpless child dwelt, the inescapable ferocity of bitter anger rose to engulf him, as it never had since the death of his family and clan at the hands of men.

Lightning flared across the dawn-darkened sky, and thunder cracked across the heavens, unheeded by those trapped on the earth below. The girl buried her face in the creamy fur of her neko, ducking under the giant boomerang carried awkwardly across the youkai's back and shoulder, her arms encircling the fire-cat with a strength that never wanted to let go. The neko purred in softer counterpoint to the clashing storm above as icy rain suddenly burst down on them, as if the sky wept for the darkness unleashed in the small soul of a single man, battleground of the gods.

Indigo eyes flashed with hot rage, and the bitterness of scathing jealousy gripped him with maddened fury. Love could be so easily turned into hate and loathing, and somewhere far off in the distance of a lonely, abandoned tomb of a limestone cave, demons trapped in stone laughed with triumph as the bitter rage circled round his soul and his fist clenched on the crimson-flaring hilt of his sword until the knuckles whitened.

The neko raised her head, her purr deepening into a growl of warning as the fur rose up on her back at the sudden presence of _danger_. Twin tails lashed and the unheeding taijiya, memories suddenly awakened and reclaimed, sat back in surprise.

"Kirara?" She asked in confusion, as the demon's eyes glowed in response and the growl rumbled, echoed by the crash of thunder above. Icy rain lashed with a thousand tiny stings to the skin, and the trees creaked and groaned in the sudden rising of the wind that howled madly around them.

Lightning snapped across the sky, and Sango's eyes widened at the dark look of utter fury on the mercenary's stilled features. Ice shot down her spine, making her shiver more than the chilling touch of the rain-whipped wind. She sensed the struggle within him, and the creeping darkness that would engulf Bankotsu's very soul. Her fingers tightened in Kirara's sodden fur and her eyes narrowed, for she was not one to just lay down and die, even if her lonely soul wept for the release death might bring.

A questing hand found the strap holding Hiraikotsu to Kirara's shoulder, and fingers plucked at the knots that tied the boomerang in place even as a young girl's heart broke at the necessity of it. Kirara's red eyes glowed crimson, the cross-shaped symbol blackened on the neko's creamy forehead above her glowing eyes stark as lightning flashed and thunder cracked the heavens in two.

Bankotsu froze, his eyes arrested on that tell-tale shape, so similar to the one dyed in a purple stain across his own tanned flesh. Rain soaked hair and armor, chilling him in icy punishment, but he stood unmoving and uncaring as _something_ abruptly split the growing darkness within him, slicing through it like a steel blade of veracity. His eyes widened as he stared unseeing for what seemed like an endless eternity, caught up in a hazy blue light that kissed itself along his soul and spun him up in gentle arms to cradle his pain in a humbling revelation of a truth he had never known and could never have realized…

_Midoriko,_ His mind asked in dazed confusion as his soul was touched by one not of this earth and what he had always held as true and evident in this world was shattered in a single instant of unlocked perception. His mind cried out in terror at sight of things he had never known, even in death, and he fell to his knees in a humbled abandonment of all he had conceived as true in this world. His soul was laid bare for his true vision, and he flinched at the judgment he decried on himself for how small and narrow a thing it was.

_Lost…_

_:But not forgotten…:_ That gentle voice whispered to him, and his soul wept at the understanding and forgiveness in the miko's world-wearied gaze. Stars mingled in the blackness of warm night as he stared into those dark depths. Terrible they were, and so utterly, heart-wrenchingly _compassionate_ that it made him feel so small and petty a thing, even as that star-touched black gaze held him close, comforting his loneliness and misdirection in pure and untainted love and understanding…

_1010101010101010_

He was caught up in revelation, and did not know or heed as the taijiya whispered softly, urgently, her brown eyes sweeping from where he had sunk to his knees in the mud to the shivering trees around them that seemed to hide a rising shadow of menacing hunger. "Kirara---do you sense them? There are demons approaching, and quickly."

The neko growled in answer, sharp teeth flashing as the cat's lips curled back in a warning snarl. Glowing red eyes became bloody as Sango slowly reached for her bundled armor of black silk, her fingers pulling away the simple yukata she wore with the ease of long practice as she slipped one garment for the other. Even with the icy rain numbing her fingers and weighting cloth with damp disdain, she was quickly armored in the skin-smoothing silk, its fabric sewn with thread made from demons defeated by the taiji of her lost village and proof against most attacks a demon could spawn.

Feeling more herself and armored as best she could, Sango picked up her giant boomerang with casual ease, flexing a wrist no longer weak or wounded. Her mouth set in grim determination as she unconsciously positioned herself in a guarded stance between the defenseless mercenary, lost and unaware, blank eyes wide and staring, mouth dropped as if in dazed shock, his black hair plastered to his skull by the rain that poured forth from the belly of the tumultuous sky. She knew not what ailed him, but knew he was caught up in something gods-touched.

Awareness shivered across her spine, and her fingers tightened on Hiraikotsu's strap. Kirara's growl was swallowed by the clash of thunder as she circled behind them, glaring into the darkness as the menacing aura of countless demons surrounded their position and closed in. The horse, forgotten and tethered, screamed with almost human terror and fell abruptly silent. Sango's heart clenched in pity, her face grim. He had not deserved such an end. She tried to peer through the murky gloom, her vision obscured by slashing rain and startling bursts of jagged light as thunder clashed.

For a moment, everything paused with bated breath, and then they struck.

Wrenching her arm back, Sango swung. "Hiraikotsu!"

Kirara rowled as claws raked and demons screamed. Howling darkness swarmed over them in a unending mass of glowing-eyed monsters, drawn by the tainted Jewel shards and their ambient evil. Sango whirled the giant boomerang over her head, slashing through attacking wyrm and ogre before letting it fly to clear a devastating path through the howling menace. Drawing the slim katana at her side, she dodged under reaching three-fingered claws and aimed for the demon's belly, laying it open and evading his downward plunge. A skull on bat's wings dove for her unprotected back, but she spun in place, slashing through the papery membrane, tearing away a wing and sending it careening into the dirt. Kirara roared behind her, slashing with claw and sinking her fangs into the neck of her screaming foe. Sango braced for Hiraikotsu's return, and ducked behind the boned boomerang's long length as acid was shot at her from the left.

Awareness became reflex, aiming for one target and looking for the next. Thrust, and parry, slash and swing. Round and round, her muscles tightening and flexing as she swung boomerang and sword to devastating effect. The demons kept coming, and there was no end in sight. Sango fought on, and Kirara yowled her challenge as they circled around the mercenary, who was still caught up in a vision, protecting and shielding him from the youkai who would take the tainted shards from his body for their own.

_Gods help us, there are so many of them! _Her mind growled as she grimly hung on. The attacks doubled, and she fought past weary muscles and the slight pain of many small wounds, prepared to fight unto the death, when salvation erupted in the welcome bellow of a friend.

_"Wind Scar!"_


	11. Chapter 11

Disclaimer: I do not own Inuyasha, etc. This story is for entertainment purposes only.

_REDEMPTION_

Summary: Specters of the past bring forth questions for the future. Can she save his soul, or will he wander forever in darkness?

_WORDS_

_houshi - Bhuddhist monk_

_-sama - honorific meaning great respect, "lord"_

_-san - honorific meaning respect, "mister" or "mistress"_

_-chan - honorific designating close friendship_

WARNING! DARK IMAGERY AND ADULT TOPICS, RUN ON SENTENCES AND POTTY MOUTHS (GLARES AT BANKOTSU AND INUYASHA)

_A/N - Ah, cliffies. Don't they suck? Mwa-ha-ha-ha! It's good to be Fate…just be glad I've already banged out the next few chapters and it shouldn't be_ too _long before I post 'em. I want to give many thankies for the continued reviews. The response to this story has surprised me, and has truly inspired. Thank you. (Fate)_

_CHAPTER ELEVEN_

The pale blue energies that surrounded him in misty veils of obscured truth slowly withdrew. The fading warmth of the ancient miko was a soft caress that touched along his cheek in farewell before she, too, was gone. Awareness returned; first as a slow climb through layers of hazy transference, then slowly speeding up until he was whirled from out of the heady depths of abstraction with an abrupt lurch as consciousness was fully restored.

He blinked, thinking to dispel a last, haunting image of one of the ghostly demons, trapped inside the Jewel, who had tried to claim his soul in darkness.

But the demon did not vanish, and _damn_, but reality was sure doing its fucking best to crash back down on him and bite him right in the ass.

With a yell, Bankotsu rolled out of the way of impending doom, the monster howling as its prey escaped snapping jaws. The winged snake was all teeth and no brains; instead of fleeing, it decided to attack him again, this time trying to wrap its lashing coils around his body so that it could immobilize the mercenary and bite off his head.

Bankotsu was ready for it, and with a calculated dive at the last second, he slithered free from the snake's intended embrace. There was no time to pick up his dropped halberd, instead he latched onto the first available appendage, and grabbed hold of the youkai's tail. The demon howled and spat, writhing on the end of its impromptu tether with angry hisses.

"Curse you, human! Let go of me!"

Bankotsu smirked.

"Okay."

Muscles bunching in arm and shoulder, the mercenary turned with all his strength and obligingly let go of it. The snake screamed in angry terror as it was flung spinning out of control. Its long body wrapped around itself, tumbling end over end until, hissing, it careened into a crowd of similar ilk, knocking them over like a set of loosely propped spears.

Bankotsu bent, as graceful as any dancer, and picked up his sword from the churned mud, using the force of his slanted whirl to bring him back around into a defensive stance. The long braid of knitted black hair slapped wetly against his back as he glanced about with a cocked brow. The fuchsia-ridden light that gleamed from his halberd did little to dispel the darkness of the gathered storm, which cast the clearing into a pallid gloom of unnatural shadows.

"Give me the Jewel shards!" A raspy voice whined, its disturbingly single pink eye glittering with angry avarice as long, three-fingered claws reached down for him.

_You would think they could come up with something different to say. At least _once.

They were as bad at repeating retold lines as the countless, unimaginative monks who were always trying to purify him right back into death.

With a casual swing of his giant sword, Bankotsu lobbed the ogre's head off with one stroke.

At least the gurgling shriek of the ogre's dying stagger was a bit different than the last one slain. This one was a bit high-pitched, almost like a girl. Kinda funny.

The next one gagged, and the next one gibbered.

The fourth one didn't stick around long enough to do much more than shriek as it turned tail and ran---right into the whipping edge of a giant, boned boomerang, which sliced it neatly in two at the chest before whirling back on its axis and disappearing into the rain-splattered gloom. A fiery-footed neko snarled, making sure of the kill as a black paw neatly nabbed a flying skull right out of the air with almost negligent disdain.

"Wind Scar!"

_Huh?_

A blinding flash of yellow radiance lit the left side of the clearing, and the snarling roars rising from countless throats were brusquely silenced.

Bankotsu paused, trying to push away the sodden black bangs that kept getting in his eyes, and glared through the splattering drops that came down so thick it was like trying to peer through a wall of splashing water. Lightning splintered the swollen sky, and he was distracted by the slender, black-clad form of the taijiya as she ducked under the clawed swing of yet another lumbering ogre.

His heart clenched as he saw the demon's other fist connect with the slayer, who was sent flying into the dirt at its feet. _Sango!_

She needed him, damn it! But his few seconds of inattention had allowed more of the filthy vermin to try and surround him, and he faced a fleshly wall of jeering youkai, all hissing, roaring or screaming that they wanted the Jewel shards, give me the Jewel shards!

_Blah, blah, blah, blah, blah!_

With each beat of that silent litany, Banryuu struck. A litter of discarded body parts and demolished flesh was left strewn in Banryuu's wake as demons howled in pain and rage. But more and more of them stood between him and Sango, and Bankotsu cursed, "Damn! Get out of my _way!"_

Rotating his giant halberd in a continual, circling sweep over his head, Bankotsu spun through the mass of demonic monsters who barred his way. There was a sudden wave of screaming youkai trying to back away from that deadly, spinning sword. Scrambling over or under their fellows---who had yet to realize what faced them and were still straining to get close to the resurrected mercenary so that they might steal his shards for themselves---the line of demons erupted into utter chaos as those trying to flee were thwarted by those trying to get closer.

With near glee, Bankotsu took advantage of the situation. Reversing Banryuu's spin, he swept the deadly blade in a sweeping, two-handed stroke, clearing the striving bodies from his path in the most expedient manner. Screams rose from the wounded and dying, and Bankotsu leapt past them, blue eyes searching frantically for the fallen taijiya who so desperately needed him.

But she didn't.

Need him, that is. For Sango had come up under the attacking ogre's guard and was even now leading him a complicated dance, darting in and out of the demon's reach, using a hidden blade that she had released along her right arm and wrist, after having lost her katana in the initial fall. Bankotsu could only stare in dumbfounded amazement as he watched the slayer twist in for a final blow, the slender blade quivering at the impact with the thick hairy hide of the ogre's deflecting arm. A slim dagger suddenly appeared in Sango's left hand, and she sunk it up to the hilt in the demon's unprotected throat.

Jumping clear of her tottering foe, the taijiya neatly landed on the balls of her feet, the fire-cat swooping past to make sure the area around her was clear. Sango braced for the return of her Hiraikotsu, and then spun around to wreak havoc on the next batch of demons too stupid to get out of her way.

"Sango!"

Bankotsu started as a flash of dark blue robes caught his eye. The monk's staff swung at the nearest demon, who screamed as the holy cudgel caved in its skull. A flaring pink and rose-strewn light shot past. Hissing, angry demons dissolved as the purified arrow swept through them.

"Sango-chan!"

"Damn it, Sango! How come we always have to come rescue you!" An all too arrogant voice snarled as the clang of a giant sword struck the ground in a flare of yellow fire. _"Wind Scar!"_

Sango whirled around, her rain-soaked hair tangling down her cheeks, and the smile that lit her tired eyes was almost breath-taking. "Kagome! Inuyasha!"

Something died inside Bankotsu, but all he could feel was aching weariness. The rage was gone, purified by the light of a miko's forgiving graceHe had been touched by clarity in that moment of utter revelation, and he understood now.

Sango didn't need him.

It was _he_ who needed _her_.

But she didn't need him---and he would never allow himself to be a burden to her. He loved her too much for that. He was a scarred vessel, not of this earth, and one who had just had his very world knocked off its foundations. Beliefs long held had been decanted by the sweeping touch of Midoriko's hand, and he was just realizing what it was in him to do.

_Not of this earth…_

Did he have the courage to do it? To walk away from her, to free her from the burden he would become? He would have to find it. Gods help him, he would have to _find_ it.

Anger, cleansing and strong, swept through him, anger at the fate given to him by the laughing gods of destiny. _Damn them._

Their paths were too different. She was mortal, and he, he was not of this earth, no matter what tainted fragments of the Jewel of Four Souls he had purloined to extend this third chance at life. His soul was too blackened to bring her anything but sorrow, and she had already had too much of that in her short life. He understood that now, and understood what the Shikon shards that he had so casually used for his own selfish benefit would try and do to him if given half a chance.

Selfish greed lent power to the darker side of the Jewel, and that malign force would continue to tease him, taunting him with false promises of his heart's desire to tempt him into using them to gain what he wanted_. Her_. But she deserved better than he, and damned he would be if he sought the aid of the ill-fated Shikon no Tama to keep her with him, against her will and wanting.

Hadn't his soul nearly just been devoured?

The Jewel of Four Souls was balanced by both light and dark, and it was the darkness that fed off of the self-serving dreams of foolish mortals who dared to use the Jewel for their own gain. Only a true priestess could purify the dark power from the Jewel. With anyone else, that malevolent force would turn back on its bearer, feeding insanity and rage to the darker side of a man's divided nature, until he was little more than a raging blood demon, lusting for death and destruction, ultimate power and ultimate evil.

Even youkai could not escape such a fate. Hadn't Naraku been proof enough?

Much had been revealed to him in that frozen instant of time, when his small scope of the world had been shattered, opening him up to a true understanding of the universe around him. He, Bankotsu, was but a small player in a deep game, a mere pawn in the claws of the demons trapped inside the Jewel who ever hoped to tip the balance of power to their favor, and finally win free of their eternal captivity.

What did it matter if he, one mere man and not even mortal, were made to suffer? Truth was ever a double-edged sword, and it struck deepest to the heart. His heart.

But he knew what he had to do. He had to let her go. Forever. It was the only way.

_The only way._

But _damn_ did it hurt.

_1111111111111111_

Three cracked remnants, shattered splinters of a dying priestess's heart, glimmered with greedy malice in the half-mooned hilt of a giant sword. The fiercely fuchsia-spun light of malevolent power glittered and swirled inside of them. Their flickering energy pulsed in cadence as if the heart they were born from still beat life through the body the Jewel had burst out of in the last, desperate efforts of a dying warrior.

Matching shards in the mercenary's body and the blade of his giant sword spun their own evil influence, their gleaming presence to one who could see them tainted with crimson hate. They fueled the man's very existence, and waited for when next they could strike out and veil his soul in darkness…

But the mercenary had stopped, his blue eyes darkening until they were deepest indigo. His mind churned, and his heart was taut with sadness, but he bowed his head to the inevitable, and decided to let love free.

The scattered shards of the Shikon no Tama in body and blade pulsed once, and a searing light of utter purity emblazoned forth to overwhelm the darker shadows of their once tainted presence.

For with one man's selfless decision, they were instantly purified.

And somewhere in the darkness of an abandoned tomb, demons entrapped for centuries howled their anguish as the stoic stone face of a forgotten priestess smiled…

_1111111111111111_

The bow quivered in her outstretched hand, as she closed one eye to better aim the arrow strung across it. Squinting, Kagome drew back just a little further…

And nearly fell over as her body, tied to the scattered shards of the Jewel that had once housed it, _shuddered_. The arrow flew out of her hand to land ignored in the dirt at her feet as she spun, eyes wide and mouth falling open, to stare at the blurred white form of the attacking mercenary.

Bankotsu fought like one possessed, and the brilliant light that winked from his body and bathed his giant sword in swirling purity made the attacking youkai fall back away from him as if that light _burned_. Shrinking into themselves, countless numbers of attacking monsters turned to flee.

"Damn it! They're getting away!" Inuyasha snarled, swinging his fanged sword around in a wide arc. In a glaring blaze of pale golden fire, he summoned the Wind Scar one last time, setting alight the fleeing hordes in a final shriek of dying ash.The battlefield fell abruptly silent, except for the spattering drops of the pallid rain that fell around them, unconcerned with the petty fears of men.

Tetsusaiga came to rest on the hanyou's shoulder as he turned an amber glare on the mercenary who stood facing him across a muddy ground littered with the destroyed remains of the dead.

"Hello, Bankotsu."

Kagome bit her lip, brushing the wet bangs from her face, brown eyes darting from one arrogant stance to the other.

Blue eyes glittered. "Been a long time, half-breed."

"Ain't been long enough, ass hole." Inuyasha replied through gritted teeth.

_"Stop."_

Kagome's fingers tightened on the smooth, wooden shaft of her bow as she caught sight of Sango's white face, her eyes dark holes of pain.

"Sango-chan," she whispered, taking a step forward, wanting to embrace her lost friend and make sure she was all right.

Shippo beat her to it.

"Sango!" A rusty ball of fur bounced right into arms that opened automatically to catch the impudent fox. Fire flared as Kirara dissolved into her smaller form, mewing a sweet welcome that relaxed the tension from Kagome's shoulders. Kirara would never transform if there was any further hint of danger to imperil them all. Kagome chose to ignore her growling mate for the moment so she could dash over to Sango's side and see for herself that her best friend was indeed all right.

"Kagome-chan." Sango gave her a warm, if tired, smile as Kagome smothered her in a spontaneous hug. Shippo sniffled, hugging the taijiya fiercely with his little paws as even Miroku drew near to greet their long-lost comrade.

"Sango, I missed you!"

"Sango-chan, we were so worried!"

"Sango-san, you are truly all right?" Miroku ventured to lay a warm hand on the taijiya's shoulder, his blue eyes concerned.

"Yes, houshi-sama. Thank you." Sango blushed at all the attention gathered around her, her heart warming at the love and concern in their anxious eyes.

"She better be." Inuyasha growled with dark promise, his eyes narrowed on the mercenary who stood like a statue, his giant halberd held loosely extended in one hand, parallel to the ground.

"Inuyasha, please." Sango stopped him, her voice weary and drawn.

"Don't worry, Sango. This ass hole won't be messing with you ever again. I'm going to make sure of that. Right…" Inuyasha brought the huge fang down in a threatening pose, _"…now_."

"Inuyasha." Kagome warned, her arms around her friend, who had tensed as tight as a drawn bow at the hanyou's harsh announcement.

"Heh." Bankotsu lifted the great weight of his halberd to rest it on his shoulder. The casual stance spoke nothing of readying for battle.

"What the hell's wrong with you, mercenary? You turn coward or something? Don't just stand there looking stupid! Prepare to fight!" Inuyasha bellowed across the muddy field. The rain had not ceased, but the thunderclouds had passed on, and the hanyou's silver hair was plastered to the back of his red haori.

Bankotsu just smirked.

Enraged, Inuyasha shook a fist at him. "Damn it, Bankotsu! I killed you once, I can kill you again!"

"_No_."

Even Shippo blinked at the fierceness in Sango's voice.

The taijiya passed the surprised kitsune over to Kagome, pulling away from Miroku's cautious prevention, and deliberately walking between the two adversaries.

_Sango-chan, what are you doing? _Kagome shivered as icy drops found their way past her collar and trickled down her back. She hugged Shippo tight, deep lines of worry furrowing her brow.

_1111111111111111_

Sango stood between them and closed her eyes. Taking a deep breath, she wondered what, exactly, she could say to make them both back down. She felt so drained, both emotionally and physically. The thousand and one aches of battle were coming to slow life, making a dull pain in the back of her mind to distract her. Rubbing between her eyes with a closed fist, she wished fervently that the headache that throbbed in her temples would just go away. She needed to think, damn it, and think fast.

"I have no intention of fighting him, you know." Bankotsu carelessly broke the silence that had descended, speaking to her alone, as if no one else stood there glaring at him.

Sango's eyes blinked open in surprise. The rain made her squint.

"What?" Inuyasha was in shock.

Sango stared at the mercenary. "What do you mean?"

His eyes were unreadable. "It's been fun, ninja."

_Fun?_

Sango's heart clenched in her chest. Fun? Was that all it was?

Could it have been anything more? Could she expect it to have been anything else? Her memories had returned in full, and she felt overwhelmed and confused as everything meshed together. He had taken her captive, and treated her wounds. He had somehow messed with her mind, so that she wandered about in a daze without concern or recollection of her friends. He had dragged her through mud and forest, kept her prisoner by night and tied to that poor slaughtered nag by day. He had shared his dark past with her and insulted her own. He had teased and taunted her, and brought her wild mushrooms just because she liked them. He had argued and cajoled, sneered and held her tight in his arms as she slept.

He had made her mad. He had made her laugh. He had made her hate him, and he had made her love him.

And all she could say was…

"I'm not a ninja."

"I know."

His blue eyes were dark, his expression unreadable.

"What the hell is going on here?" Inuyasha shouted at them, oblivious to the tension in the air.

"Inuyasha." Kagome dragged the hanyou's name out with exasperation.

How typical.

It should have made her laugh.

But why did she suddenly feel like crying?

"Why are you leaving?" She asked, more than rain in her cinnamon eyes.

He only smirked.

How typical.

How hurtful.

"Gotta." He said, with typical disregard and a casual shrug.

Sango bent her head, not wanting him to see the pain his flippancy caused her.

A calloused hand gently gripped her chin, pulling it up. Deep blue eyes stared into hers for a long moment as she tried to blink the tears away so that he would not see.

"Get your filthy hands off her, bandit!" Inuyasha snarled.

"Sit, boy!" Kagome shouted, and dancing lights flashed behind them with a muffled thud.

He kissed her then, a hard, bruising kiss that left her breathless.

And then he was gone.


	12. Chapter 12

Disclaimer: I do not own Inuyasha, etc. This story is for entertainment purposes only.

_REDEMPTION_

Summary: Specters of the past bring forth questions for the future. Can she save his soul, or will he wander forever in darkness?

_WORDS_

_kami - gods_

_wakkusu - wax_

WARNING! DARK IMAGERY AND ADULT TOPICS, ANGST, RUN ON SENTENCES AND BAD WORDS, SPOILERS (MOVIE II, EPISODE 122+)

_A/N - Holy Fart! The reviews for chapter 11 just made my mouth fall open. Thank you! A lot of people wondered if the story had ended with the last chapter, and I hope adding this one answers that question. XD Sorry I didn't update sooner, but it took me longer to edit this one than I first thought. Reality kept intruding, snarl. Anyway, here 'tis and hope you like. (Fate)_

_CHAPTER TWELVE_

_"Did revenge take the pain?" She had asked him once, in a sudden question that had startled him out of thinking about nothing much in particular. Her tone was light, as were the fingers that briefly touched his hand, which were wrapped around her waist, holding her steady in front of him upon the saddle.  
_

_He had thought about it for a long moment before answering, "No."  
_

_She had nodded, and said no more, but the question and his answer stayed with him, and he had realized that it was true. Revenge on the people who slaughtered his village had been satisfying, to be totally honest, but it hadn't done much to ease the pain of loss that could still stab him when he thought too much about it.  
_

_Which made him think of Renkotsu, and how killing the traitor had not really assuaged the sudden death of his best friend, Jakotsu, and it made him think of how alone he now was in the world. Alone and friendless._

_Except for her._

And now she was gone.

"Damn." He said, a fist pounding the thin pillow beneath his cheek, the memory as fresh as yesterday, though many days, many months actually, had passed in a timeless march since last he'd seen her. Since last he'd touched her cheek and kissed her for the first and last and only time.

_Damn._

_1212121212121212_

"What the hell is wrong with you?"

Inuyasha stared down at her, arms crossed belligerently over his chest. Sango sighed, and picked up the worn rag she had dropped as she had stared off, lost in her thoughts and forgetting where she was and what she was doing.

"Nothing," she automatically replied, resuming her stilled motions across the broad surface of her Hiraikotsu, which gleamed with the waxing polish she had rubbed into it.

"Hmph." Inuyasha glared, but could get no other answer. She always replied the same, no matter how many times he might riddle her.

Sango bent studiously to her task, and eventually the hanyou stalked off, irritated with her reticence. The sadness that haunted the dark depths of her eyes never truly disappeared, and she would often sit in silence, her thoughts her own and unrevealed to anyone.

All of them worried deeply about her, and expressed it with anxious inquiries. Sango felt bad about it, she knew how concerned they were for her, but the pain was a part of her now, a dull ache in her heart that would never lift. They could never understand it, and she would not even try and explain.

There was a slight rustle of cloth behind her, and Sango turned her head to see the monk settling himself just beyond her. He gave her a faint, lop-sided smile, though his blue eyes were troubled.

"Sango?" He asked tentatively.

"Don't, houshi-sama. Please." Sango turned away from him.

The monk sighed. "As you wish."

They sat in silence, the soft sweep of the rag smoothing across the boomerang's surface the only sound between them. A bird chirped in the trees, and the grass whispered to itself as a playful wind shivered the long blades of the field before moving on, busy with its own concerns.

"Kagome will be returning in a few more days. Her 'finals' should be over by then." Miroku broke the silence with the inane.

Sango nodded. She had never questioned, as the others did, why her friend had always felt the need to return home, to take up life as if it had never been interrupted by shards or sacrifice. She envied Kagome that she could return home, that she _had_ a home to return to.

Sango's hand paused in its circling motions. _Home…_

She felt a sudden desire to be _there_, in her home village, where the spirits of her forefathers lay in slumbering oblivion beneath the ruins of her past. It had been a long time since she had last taken flowers to the graves, or burned incense in honor of their memory. She had always drawn strength from the rocky soil of that valley, as if the roots of her soul took nourishment from the very earth therein.

_I could use some more wakkusu for Hiraikotsu; I'm running low. I should also check the storehouse, and make certain the locks still hold. I wonder if any of the herb garden has survived the weeds. Lady Kaede mentioned that she could use more fever-root and willow bark… _

Kagome would be gone for a few more days, and they weren't doing much besides sitting around waiting for the young miko to return. Without Kagome to sense out the scattered shards of the Shikon no Tama, there wasn't much that they could do.

Which was part of the problem. Sango wasn't keeping herself busy enough to distract the pain away by concentrating on the here and now, and the many little things that she could use to keep the wraiths of _why_ from wrapping themselves around her troubled thoughts.

The group would hardly miss her. Shard-hunting had been strangely quiet lately, with few rumors to follow. The youkai had been quiescent, and everyone had been glad to take a much-needed break from following longer and longer treks across the land in the hopes of finding another fragment of the shattered Jewel. Miroku had been eying a particularly pretty girl in the village, who wasn't so averse to his charms, and Shippo was happiest when spread out across the floor of Kaede's hut, crayons to hand. Inuyasha would be too busy stomping around growling about when Kagome would get her ass back here for him to even realize Sango was gone as well…

She needed to go home. There were herbs to gather before the first frost set in, and she should make certain that nothing had disturbed the graves of her ancestors or taken roost in the abandoned houses. She could stock up on her own supplies, replace some of the equipment that had become lost or damaged.

And perhaps, just perhaps, the heavy wounds in her heart might heal in that quiet place, and she could quit acting like a lovesick fool, worrying her friends and feeling as if all the world had abandoned her.

Decision made, Sango smiled. A real smile, and not the faint whisper of one she often assumed for the benefit of her anxious comrades.

Miroku cocked a questioning brow at her, sensing the sudden change her mood.

"I think I am going to take a few days and go back to my village. While Kagome's gone, we can't really search for any of the Jewel shards, and…" Sango began, laying Hiraikotsu aside.

Strong fingers, the palm wrapped in prayer-beads, briefly touched her hand in a gesture of quiet understanding. "You don't need to explain. I understand."

She looked into those quiet blue eyes, and felt the warmth of his friendship, and her gratitude for it, that she had it in her life. It helped, somewhat.

"We've all worried about you, Sango." Miroku continued. "I don't know what that mercenary did to you---"

Her smile died. Sango turned her head aside, to stare out at the long, waving grass of the empty field. She didn't want to talk about it. She didn't ever want to talk about it. She had been a fool, a stupid and utter fool.

_How could I have ever thought he might love me? He's strong, and I am so weak, and…_

She let the mental reproach die, for it would turn into a long litany of her many faults and shortcomings, and she didn't want to think about it. She spent too much of her time thinking about it.

_Kami help me…_

After a long, awkward pause, Miroku offered, "I could go with you."

Sango bit her lip, staring out at the verdant field, so beautiful in dancing sunlight. She tried to articulate her thoughts. "No, thank you, houshi-sama. I think…I think I need to be alone."

And maybe, finally come to terms with _being_ alone.

_1212121212121212_

No matter how far he wandered, her memory still followed.

He had thought that if he kept busy enough, thoughts of her would not intrude. So he did what he had always done before he took her---though he put a lot more actual work into gathering them than he ever truly had. Digging out rumors and following the trail of this or that shard, he was able to collect quite a few of them. He would have used them before, to add to the ones he already had in his body or blade, but now he just kept them in a little silk bag that insulated him against their influence, for the ones he collected came from some grasping youkai or greedy little man, and thus were tainted.

He didn't want to have to deal with _that_ shit again. Once was enough, thank you.

Those in possession of a shard didn't often give it up without making a big fuss about it. Didn't matter, though. He took care of _them_ easily enough, and the world was left a little bit better off without some sneaky thief or marauding demon to pester it. And if he occasionally took out some other monster along the way, or helped out some stinking peasant or simple farmer who happened to be in trouble of some kind, than he just scowled as they gave him their irritatingly gushing eternal gratitude, and blamed it on _her_ influence.

'Cause that damn sense of honor of hers, that insidious sense of right and wrong that he had found so fucking stifling, so damn inconvenient and just downright annoying was now stuck with him, and gods, did it _suck_.

It was all _her_ fault he now had that damn annoying voice rattling around inside his head, making him feel bad about something or other and just nattering on and on at him about the most trivial shit. He hadn't ever needed a conscience before, why the hell it plagued him now just baffled him, and was one more thing he could lay at _her_ door.

Though having a dead priestess pop into his head and just show him how _real_ heaven and hell actually were hadn't precisely helped out the situation. That damn Midoriko even had him stopping to pray now, when he felt the need for it, and if _that_ wasn't downright sick, than he didn't know what was.

Though, come to think of it, wasn't Midoriko some damn ancestor of hers or other So he could trace all that sudden religious nonsense he was feeling right back to _her_ as well.

Damn it.

And what was worse, what was truly worse, was that he couldn't really call himself a _mercenary_ any more. Well, he did accept payment when it was offered, and wasn't averse to taking a meal and bed when that was all they had, but when it wasn't, why, then that damn conscience he had suddenly been saddled with would start stabbing him right there in the gut and make him take the job---which usually meant slaughtering some pesky demon or other---_anyway. _Which meant he got nothing for his pains except having to wash the blood or gunk out of his clothes and sitting down to re-sharpen Banryuu's battered blade with a whet stone---which took _forever_, damn it.

It was just all so fucking annoying.

Or that was what he told himself, trying to cover this sudden new side of him that kept insisting on coming out more and more to plague him with stupid do-goody nonsense he would have positively shunned before.

Not that it hadn't always been there; his brother Seiryoku had thumped it in his thick head often enough when he was still a snot-nosed brat that they were taiji, that it was their _duty_ to protect the hopeless---er, helpless---but gods above and below and in between, if he saw one more stinking peasant with some whiney plea for aid---

"HELP! HELP ME!"

A black brow twitched.

Damn kami. The knew just when to mock a man…

_1212121212121212_

A lonely wind moaned through the deserted village. Shattered timbers creaked uneasily, and something came loose and fell with an agitated clatter. Sango shivered---this wasn't exactly the homecoming she had envisioned.

Clouds banked the sky from one horizon to the other. Low, swollen clouds that promised heavy rain. They lent an air of gloomy despondency that weighed heavily on Sango's spirits, casting the tattered remains of her childhood's haven into dull colors and mordant shadows.

A heavy head nudged the back of her thigh, and Sango looked down at her friend. Scratching behind Kirara's right ear---one of the neko's favorite spots---the gloomy silence was broken by the youkai's rumbling purr of utter contentment. Kirara leaned heavily into the caress, purring like a small avalanche, and it made Sango smile.

Which was probably why the neko did it. Kirara could be crafty at times, though those big red eyes and lazily flagging twin tails could deceive one into thinking that nothing so cute and innocent could do anything so underhanded.

And that was when she was in her big form. Gods help the unwary if she were in her kittenish persona. That adorable little _mew_ hid a world of mischief and mayhem behind it.

"Well, looks like there'll be rain tonight. I better go find us a house that at least has most of the roof left, or we'll sleep wet." Sango gave the neko a final pat before straightening up and scanning the buildings left standing with a jaundiced eye.

Focusing on the practical and keeping her mind busy with the mundane were some of the reasons why she had even come here. She managed to stave off her lowering emotions by finding shelter in the healer's old cot---her father's having been demolished by Kagura so long ago, when Naraku had feigned his death to ferret Princess Kaguya out of hiding. Memories haunted her every place she looked, and they were no longer the innocent ones of a relatively carefree childhood. Even the memories untouched by death were still shadowed by the reality that the people who had once made this a busy, bustling community full of _life_ and _living_ were no longer there to still make it so.

Her heart heavy, Sango ignored the past that whispered such sorrow as she gathered wood from the remains of Akio's hut, or relatively clean linens from Masago's ruined home. Masago had often been teased for how clean she kept her little cot, and for the seven grown children she had raised whose ears had always been red, she scrubbed them so hard. Masago's fine chest, the pride of her heart and a dower gift from her parents years and years before Naraku's descent, had withstood the wind and weather relatively intact. Sango thought of how often that old woman would polish the surface of her fancifully carved chest, and tell stories of brighter years when she was young. Masago had often watched them, her and Kohaku, when their father was too busy, and now she lay alongside her grown children and her grandchildren, who had never been given the chance to grow, in the near forty graves that lined one end of the decimated village.

There were far too many of them, too many memories of people much like Masago and Akio, who was happiest when tending his gardens; or Hisoka, with his deadly throwing knives, who had taught her all he knew; or pretty, indecisive Chizo with her two suiters she could never settle between. They had been simple, happy people going about their simple, happy lives. They had not deserved such a dark fate, such a bleak end.

But who ever deserved such a fate? Was the simple farmer with his flooded fields of rice or the old wife with her dyed weaves and young children any less than the people of her clan, who had watched their sons and fathers, brothers and husbands head out to battle, uncertain of who might never return? At least _her_ people had had a chance at escaping the ravages of war and famine, had also known ways to keep the mindless, raging demons at bay. They had chosen the path of honor, and knew their duty, had understood the risks and accepted them with eyes well opened to the danger.

It made her weary and sad to think of it, to think of them, and so she pushed it aside to concentrate on making a small nest for herself and Kirara. The rain that had threatened finally came with a splattering of drops just as she finished hauling Masago's stout chest across the muddied paths. Kirara helpfully kindled the rotting boards she had gathered in the firepit of Naoru's small hut. The bamboo curtain had long rotted from the door, but Sango was able to rig a moth-eaten blanket across the embrasure. She could do nothing for the splintered window, and she would have to repair the multiple chinks in the roof that had rain dripping down at odd spots on the wooden floor, but that would have to wait. She might not even have time enough to bother fixing them---she would only be here for a few more days, after all.

She busied herself cleaning up what she could of the small hut. Naoru had never been much of a pack-rat, and so she had little to sort through and toss. None of the medicinal herbs the healer had hung drying or packed away had survived the ravages of three years' abandonment, but she was pleased to see that some of the old healer's implements could be saved with a little judicious cleaning. Carefully folding them away into a neat package, Sango thought she might take them back to Lady Kaede.

Though maybe she should put them away in the storehouse, which had remained relatively unscathed. There might come a day when some new healer came to the village to ply his trade, and would welcome valuable additions to his own supplies…

What was she thinking? Who would ever want to come to a village so cursed by ill fate? She was fooling herself if she ever thought that such a remote possibility even existed. She was the last and only of her clan, and she had neither the people, nor the resources, it would take to restore what was. She lacked the charisma, the drive, the strength, to make such a rash dream even feasible.

Oh, but to have her clan _live _again…was that not worthy a dream? No matter the impossibility, the improbability, wasn't it a wish as valid as any other? What if she could have that dream, and make efficacy from destruction?

And for a moment, she toyed with the notion of using the Shikon no Tama---once it was made whole, of course---to make that wish come true. Her heart burned, as she turned the idea over in her mind, her honeyed eyes dream-filled as she thought of what she could do to make that vision reality, and how the Jewel might help her. It was said that the Jewel made wishes come true…

It was also true that the tainted Jewel would twist those dreams into something unrecognizable and unwanted. For if she used the Jewel for such a selfish reason, no matter how she masked it in altruistic excuses that it was not for _her, _but for her _clan, _who might once again take up their arms to defend those less able, than she would be no better than the youkai or ningen who would use it for their own personal gain. It was only the truly selfless that could ever use the Jewel and purify it, and as far as Sango knew, there had never, ever, been one who could do so.

Though maybe Kagome, with her generous heart and her miko's powers, might be the one person in this world who _could_ use the Jewel for something other than her own selfish desires...

Shaking her head, Sango thought that she might as well wish for the moon, or for Bankotsu to love her--and with that thought, her smile faded.

_Why? Why did he just leave and say nothing?_

That question had haunted her constantly, but she wasn't an idiot. There was nothing he _could_ have said. It wasn't like he was in love with her or anything. They might have become somewhat friends over those few weeks they spent together, but he had never given her a hint of anything more.

She _was_ an idiot if she thought there ever could have been. This was Bankotsu, for kami sake. He cared about nothing and no one, and that would never change.

Who was she kidding? He _had_ changed. Something had messed with him. Something must have, else he would have taken Inuyasha's snarled challenge right then and there. Though maybe it was because he had become somewhat friends with her, and that weird code of honor of his that he refused to admit to even having had refused to let him fight an enemy who was _her_ friend---well, maybe at least in _front_ of her. Or maybe it was because Inuyasha had just saved them from all those demons. Or maybe it was just because he didn't care anymore, that he was just glad to have an excuse to be rid of her.

Down _that_ mental road lay dark despair, and so Sango shook herself out of it. She needed to distract herself, needed to go and do something that would take her mind off of even _thinking_ about him. She needed to set about preparing dinner, even if it was a bit early yet. But she needed to do _something_, damn it, and at least she had thought to bring along some dried fish for Kirara; it was too dismal a day for the neko to even want to think about hunting up her own supper. She might see if those spices Kaede gave her wouldn't make a good stew. She had plenty of rice…

Cooking dinner took up some of her time, cleaning up after herself took more. But then she found herself at loose ends, and the day, though drenched and gloomy, was far from spent. She had too much time on her hands, and dark thoughts hovered too close. Sitting and staring out the broken window into the rain wasn't helping any.

Sango abruptly stood up. A little rain wouldn't hurt her, and if she had to take the time to hang out her clothing to dry, than at least it was something else she could do to fill in the empty moments and keep herself busy. Besides, she hadn't paid respect yet to the graves that lined the far edge of the small village, and she might stop by the storehouse to see if the locks still held…

Grabbing up her blue shawl as a cover, Sango wound it round herself into an impromptu hood. She had carelessly left her straw hat back at Kaede's, and had forgotten to bring anything else. She might go and see how the herb gardens fared, see if any of the plants had survived the weeds. There was an abundance of flowers near there, and she could pick some to lay on the graves of the departed…

Kirara took one look at the steady downpour, wrinkled her nose with distaste, and went back to sleep, curled beside the sputtering warmth of the fire.

The rain splashed, chilling her feet as Sango gingerly stepped around the largest puddles. Making her way through the shattered remains of her past, she deliberately let her eyes slide over the ruined houses and what they represented. It was with guilty relief that she finally spied the overgrown gardens.

The village gardens aligned one wall of the encircling palisade of staked timber. Here, the wall was relatively intact, and Sango could pretend for a time that all was as it had been. Careless of how muddy she made her green skirt, the taijiya wandered among the overgrown rows, surprised at how much had actually survived. Noting an abundance of the medicinal herbs Lady Kaede desired, she thought she might spend a good amount of time tomorrow morning in harvesting them. Spying the white clusters of flowering plants on the far edge of the garden, she quickly gathered as many as she could.

It was with a lighter heart that she slogged her way back through the ruined village toward the line of graves Inuyasha and Miroku had dug so long ago. She had always drawn comfort from praying over the graves of her people, knowing that they, at least, now rested in peace. She would linger over the site of her father and brother, and seek solace in that simple act of love and meditation…

The rain dripped across the raised mounds, uncaring and incessant. Sango ignored the muddy splash that numbed her legs and chilled her toes as she stopped by each of the thirty-eight graves to lay a sprig of white flowers with a soft prayer for peace. One day she would see them all again, when it was her time to rejoin them in the afterlife, and that thought had always brought comfort to her.

But strangely, not now. At first, she laid each sprig and awaited that calm acceptance to wash over her. But her eyes grew troubled as the sadness went unabated, and she drew no quiet strength from the simple act as she always had. Perhaps it was the gloomy skies around her, or the soft, persistent whisper of rain that continually distracted her, but she felt no peace.

Restless and oddly irritated, she finally came to the end, where her father and brother had been buried together. Her friends had come with her on that last, sad journey, when she had brought her brother's body to its final resting place. She had returned only once since then, and she had actually been comforted to know that poor Kohaku, at least, had finally found some peace to his all-too-short, brutal existence.

But now she could only stare down at that muddy, dirt-strewn mound and clutch the flowers she had brought in white hands. The soft blue silk she had raised as a hood was little protection against the constant, dripping rain, and slithered wetly against her pale cheeks. Drops slithered down the back of her kimono, and made her shiver as she stared down at that lonely grave.

_He doesn't love me. He could never love me. I was too weak to even save him. Oh, Kohaku. I am so sorry!_

Her thoughts were muddled together. Intermixed with her feelings of inadequacy concerning the death of her brother was also the pain of a broken heart. What a fool she was, to have fallen so easily, and for one who could never want to return it. This hurt so much more than ever her young ideals of love for Miroku had, but then that love had been more of girlish romance and young dreams. Why and how she had allowed herself to fall so hard for the mercenary, she could not say. She felt helpless and confused, and the weakness it revealed to her made her cringe.

_How stupid I was to think he could ever love me. Oh gods, it hurts. It hurts so much. Father…oh, Father, you would be so ashamed of me. You always told me to be strong, to live strong, to be happy, and I can't. I'm too weak. I have never had your strength, and oh, how I miss you._

A tear trickled down her cheek, joining the drops of water already there. Falling to her knees in the mud, the crushed flowers she had carried fell from her numbed fingers in a spill of white despair.

Her spirit broke, and the salty tears ran faster as she bent her head. The darkness that ever hovered at the back of her mind pooled over her, and Sango could only weep in the dirt for all that she had lost and could never regain. Her world was ashes, and the dull ache in her heart only added to the burden of empty loneliness. Nothing would ever alter how truly _alone_ she was, and she should accept her fate.

And perhaps, eventually, she would. But for right now, she could only cry silently against a cruel world that mocked her with one who could never love her. He valued strength above all else, and she was too weak to even turn away from miserable self-pity and take comfort from the fact that she had friends and work to fill her life, which was more than many. She should be counting her blessings, not wallowing in self-pity and remorse. She knew it, and knew that chiding herself only led to more feelings of self-loathing, a vicious cycle that was all too easy to get caught up in.

So she let herself cry, hoping that her heart would heal. And if it didn't, well, then she would find the strength somewhere to go on. No one would ever know just how truly weak she was, how easily she had finally given in to tears, and how empty those promises were even as she mouthed them to the uncaring silence that mocked her with taunting indifference…

_1212121212121212_

The child sought him. Wraith of darkness, the emptiness in her black eyes was unearthly, but the soft scuff of her sandals on the floorboards was all too real. He heard her, and not knowing who it was who had come for him, he had pulled the silken sheath from his halberd and held it ready.

"Who goes there? What do you want?" He demanded, his blue eyes narrowed as his hands gripped tighter on the long hilt of his sword.

The shoji screen was pushed back by the small white hand of a child. She stepped through, as if invited, and stood staring up at him with those blank eyes, that strange, inexpressive face in the body of a ghost.

Her voice was soft, melodious, too old for one of her few years. "I have come seeking you, Bankotsu."

He scowled down at her, irritated. "What is it?"

"This." She said, and extended her hand, turning it over so that the broken bauble cupped in her palm gleamed dully in the flickering torchlight.


	13. Chapter 13

Disclaimer: I do not own Inuyasha, etc. This story is for entertainment purposes only.

_REDEMPTION_

Summary: Specters of the past bring forth questions for the future. Can she save his soul, or will he wander forever in darkness?

_WORDS_

_okaa-san - mother (Japanese)_

_geas - a duty or unbreakable obligation laid on one by another (English)_

WARNING! DARK IMAGERY AND ADULT TOPICS, BAD WORDS AND SPOILERS (EPISODE 122+)

_A/N - I checked out Japanese high school graduation ceremonies and almost fell over with surprise. The Japanese school year endsin March, and resumes again in April. They have "trimesters" and go through the typical graduation ceremony, diplomas and all, though it's rather short. Works out for me, and matches the timeline I had with this story. Yay. Anywho, I wanted to thank y'all again for the continued reviews. Makes me giddy._

_o.O Fate_

_CHAPTER THIRTEEN_

"You're back early, Kagome." Miroku greeted the returning miko with a smile that could charm the socks off any woman. A smile that probably _had_ charmed the socks---among other items---off many a woman.

"Took ya damn long enough." Inuyasha growled, crossed fists in his wide sleeves.

Kagome scowled. To think she had come back early for that damn mutt, just because she was missing him! Exams had finished early for the senior year students, and while all of her friends had chatted excitedly about spending the last week before graduation in parties and various planned vacations, Kagome could only think of having a couple of extra days to come back here, to the Warring States Era. She had promised and promised and promised again that she would return in time for the graduation ceremony; she knew her okaa-san would be really hurt and disappointed if she missed out on watching her daughter receive a diploma. Bad enough Kagome intended to skip college; she had no real reason to go. Her life was _here_, in feudal Japan.

Here, with Inuyasha.

Brown eyes softening, she grabbed hold of his sleeves and yanked him into her arms.

"Hey! What the---" She cut him off with a kiss, and Miroku sighed, thinking just how lucky that stupid dog was.

"They sure kiss a lot," Shippo observed with disgust.

Miroku looked down at his feet in surprise. "Oh, hello there, Shippo."

The kitsune folded his arms across his chest and glared at the entwined couple. "So does this mean we're not going shard-hunting again?"

"Whaddya mean, brat?" Inuyasha scowled over Kagome's shoulder.

"_Inuyasha_." Kagome drawled out the hanyou's name with exasperation. The inu's white ears flattened against his silver mane and he gave his mate a measuring look. Kagome didn't look pissed enough to want to 'sit' him, but he didn't want to take any chances.

Distracting her might work. "Sango's not here."

"What?" Kagome blinked in confusion.

"She went home to her village for a few days." Miroku sat gingerly on the edge of well.

"She thought you'd be gone longer, Kagome." Shippo added, his bright smile declaring that he, for one, was glad the miko wasn't.

"Well, then, we should go fetch her." Inuyasha said testily, as if that would solve the dilemma. "Besides, there hasn't been much activity around here, and no word on any potential Jewel shards. Maybe we can catch some sign of 'em if we start looking over there."

"It has been awhile since we hunted there." Miroku added thoughtfully.

_Come to think of it, it's been awhile since we came across any Jewel shards. A _long_ while. _Kagome thought to herself, her brow furrowing. She tried counting up how many weeks it had been, and realized that, bar her short jaunt back to the family shrine, it had been more than a month since last they followed some rumor that had actually been more than just loose talk. _Why, the last shard we actually found was from that old weasel demon. That was almost five weeks ago!_

Funny how she hadn't realized until now how much time had actually passed. But then, she had had a lot to distract her. Inuyasha was good at that…

Blushing a little at her thoughts, Kagome hid her embarrassment by digging the small glass bottle from out of her pocket. Idly pulling out a ponytail tie and a wrinkled stick of gum---which she handed to a gleeful Shippo---she frowned at the small bottle, which sparkled in the weak sunlight.

"What is it, Kagome?" Inuyasha had caught the bottle's flash.

"It's full." Kagome said, more to herself. She hadn't realized just how many shards they had managed to gather together. There was hardly any room left inside the glass. They were packed in so tight, they didn't even shift when she shook the bottle gently.

Counting up the various shapes and their accumulation, which had started with the two in Kouga's legs---the wolf demon had handed them over in the stunned aftermath of Naraku's defeat, when the dark hanyou had shattered the Shikon no Tama into a hundred more pieces just for pure spite---Kagome came to a surprising total.

_Why, there must be a good third of the original Jewel in there!_

The thought made her blink. But then she had to blink again, because she suddenly seemed to be surrounded by an aura of pale blue light, which enfolded her stunned vision in a purity so welcoming it brought unconscious tears to her eyes. A soft voice, strung with the blended harmonies of a hundred souls all singing in one bountiful chorus, whispered softly, _:Come, child. You are needed. Return to the caves in which the Jewel was first bound. Your friend needs you.:_

The voice gently receded, as did the luminescent light, leaving Kagome with a sense of urgency even as her body slowly folded, her mind still caught up in that incredible vision. Inuyasha was quick to catch her in his arms, and he was caught by a stab of fear as she blinked up at him, her face pale and her brown eyes wide.

"Kagome? What the hell just happened? Kagome!" The hanyou shook her, not so gentle in his worry.

"Inuyasha…" Kagome managed to whisper. White claws tenderly brushed the black whorls of her bangs off of her cheek. Kagome struggled to speak, shaken by that brief experience. How could she explain it? For she had just been gods-touched, and it had left her oddly heartbroken, wanting to feel that perfect blend of balance and sanctity once more. But she had to ignore that ethereal feeling, and focus on her poor mate, who was staring at her with anxious amber eyes. "Inuyasha, we must leave. We must…Sango…"

"Sango?" Inuyasha's brows came down.

_1313131313131313_

"You're weird, you know that, kid?" Bankotsu cocked a black brow in the little girl's direction.

The white wraith of the Void sat back on her heels with her hands folded primly upon her lap. The small, half-split Jewel winked sullenly between her small, white hands. When Bankotsu had refused to take it from her, Kanna had merely stepped across the small room and set herself down on the tatami-matted floor as one invited.

"So. You have nothing to say, eh?" Bankotsu prompted from his own sprawling seat upon his abandoned sleeping mat, sake jug poised over an empty saucer.

Kanna simply looked at him, her black eyes fathomless.

"Gods, you're weird." Shaking his head, Bankotsu quaffed the filled saucer in one swallow. Wiping the back of his hand across his mouth, he leaned back against the wall to match the girl stare for stare.

Impatience won out over endurance. "Why the hell are you here, ghost-girl? Did Naraku send you?"

"Naraku is dead." The girl said, her voice as soft and casual as if she were speaking of the weather. Man, what a freaky kid.

"That wind-chick, then. Did she send you?" Bankotsu demanded.

"Kagura is dead, as well." Those steady black eyes and that frozen mask of a little girl's face were sure giving him the creeps. Wait---did she say the wind sorceress was dead? Then, were _all_ of Naraku's incarnations dead?

"I am the only one left." Was there a hint of sadness in the girl's soft voice? No, it couldn't be. She was the Void, after all. The Void felt nothing, _was_ nothing. It was beyond the reckoning of heaven or hell, beyond the ken of gods or man. It was a separate force, one that existed outside of man's realms.

He should know, his soul had fled there to sleep suspended in time as his body withered in the muddied earth, twice killed and twice buried.

And twice unknowing and unbelieving in any other world outside of this earthly one…

"What do you want, kid?" Bankotsu asked, tired of this game.

"The shards in your body. They are untainted." Kanna commented, dark eyes empty pools in the flickering candlelight.

His shoulders twitched. "Yeah. So?"

Her eyes seemed to widen, as if she looked through him. Bankotsu stirred, uneasy under that penetrating gaze. It felt like the kid was stripping him of his clothing, was trying to see what lay beneath. What a disgusting thought.

"You carry more shards, but do not use them." She said, dropping from that strange, double-visioned trance.

Instinctively reaching for the small silk bag he carried inside his blue-splashed kimono, close to his money belt, Bankotsu stopped at the last minute. "What's all this about, kid? You're starting to really annoy me with all this weird shit."

She regarded him for a long moment before replying vaguely, "The Jewel must be made whole, the wound healed."

_What the hell is_ that _supposed to mean?_

"You're making no sense, kid." He growled, blue eyes darkening with irritation. Kami, he needed a drink. Reaching for the handy jug, he splashed another good spot of cheap sake into the saucer.

"It was I who summoned you, Bankotsu. Summoned you for this." The girl held out the melded half-sphere of the tainted Jewel in her hand.

"What?" He nearly choked on the sake, which burned its way down his throat. His blue eyes grew ominous as they narrowed on the small white figure, who returned his dark gaze with mild indifference.

"It was I who gathered your bones together under the destroyed rubble of Mount Hakurei and used the three Jewel shards to bring you back to life." Kanna replied with the same stoic calm she used with everything, untouched as she was by human emotions.

"By Naraku's orders. That's what you told me." If she was expecting gratitude, she wouldn't get it. The kid had always acted on the dark hanyou's behalf, probably the _only_ one who had ever given that half-monster baboon their unquestioning loyalty.

"I spoke not the truth." There was a flicker of---something---in the black eyes that regarded him so steadily.

"Huh?" Bankotsu stared down at her in shock.

"I lied." She said, as if that were oh-so-helpful.

But that meant that the girl must have acted on her own. Or that something else had ordered her to revive him, and might have some unknown intentions to use him in some strange way, and he didn't like it.

Not one bit.

His hands fumbled for the jug of sake, and he didn't bother with the saucer this time. Hefting the jug to his lips, he gulped down a good bit of anesthesia before letting it fall. Wiping his hand across his mouth again, he finally turned his narrowed blue eyes on her and gritted out, _"Why?"_

The half-sphered bauble in the child's cupped hands gleamed sullenly, the fuchsia swirls glinting in the flickering candlelight as if the Jewel had a life and mind of its own. Which it did---if one counted the souls of the dead miko and angry demons imprisoned within. One half pure, the other utter darkness.

"The balance must be restored," was the girl's enigmatic reply.

Bankotsu scowled. "Just what is that supposed to mean, kid?"

"The Jewel must be made whole, the wound healed." She repeated the line like an idiot, or one mouthing words she did not understand. Her black eyes were bottomless pools in the pale flower of her face.

Empty pools of unrelieved darkness.

_1313131313131313_

The limestone caverns of a miko's last tomb seemed to glow with an unshielded light of raw energy. Swirling blue veils wrapped themselves across the entrance, shimmering with eddies of sanctified power. The spirits within that empty cave were restless, calling out to those who might hear. The miko's spirit was quiescent, and the demons trapped beside her pulsed with growing disquiet.

All was not lost, though. They still might yet tip the balance in their favor. The majority of the miko's crystalline heart was yet engulfed with the powers of darkness and the sour taint of hate and anger, jealousy and bitterness, persuasively evil…

Sending out their own venomous persuasion, they searched for one that they might claim, one who they could turn and twist to their use. A menacing tendril of rotting influence, they spread themselves forth, questing, questing…

Atop the mountainous hill, a young woman stirred restlessly in her sleep, the dried tears on her cheeks testament to a sadness so deep it was only unleashed in the bitterness of churned dreams. The darkness hid her sorrow, even to herself, but the glowing red eyes of a watchful neko stood guard. The seething tendril of demonic seeking could not touch there, and exploit the girl's weakened spirit for themselves. The neko hissed, sensing there ominous presence, and they retreated with angry hisses of their own.

All was not yet lost, however. There were others, weaker of spirit and not immune to their call. All they needed was _one_, weak of spirit and bitter of life, angry at fate and forsaken by the gods. One who was easy prey for their dark manipulation.

When the soul is empty, there is much that can fill it…

_1313131313131313_

"You and I are not of this earth."

Bankotsu flinched beneath that unwavering gaze. _Not of this earth…_

How well he knew that phrase, knew what it meant and knew what it cost him. True life and living, a love forever denied, because he was not of this earth, did not truly belong here and could never be wholly part of this world. His life was not his own, but a gift given to him by the gods.

A gift that could be easily recalled.

"I brought you back so that you might destroy the Jewel." The child said, her demeanor one of unruffled calm, though not of peace or serenity. There was nothing about her that spoke of gods or men. She was as one separate, apart and untouched by the world around her. The Void of nothingness, untouched and unmoved, and yet still _there_.

"What do you mean?" Bankotsu slumped against the wall, feeling somehow defeated, and yet a spark of irritation had him scowling at the recurrent question.

"The balance must be restored." Yet another cryptic repetition, and he was getting damned tired of it.

Gritting his teeth, he snapped, "Get to the fucking point, kid."

"It's power grows too great." Her fingers lightly caressed the sullen Jewel in her lap. "The Dark One gave it too much anger. The evil in this world has grown because of him."

Gods, she was irritating! "The Dark One?"

"My creator. Naraku," she murmured. "He was foolish to have called me from the Void. He did not know what it was that he did."

"And what the fuck did he do?" Bankotsu nearly snarled.

"He sought power beyond his ability. He sought total control over heaven and hell, and all beside and between." She smiled, as if she relived some faint memory. "He was foolish, and overstepped himself."

"What does that have to do with the price of rice in Bangladesh? He's dead, ain't he?" Bankotsu's fist slammed down into the disturbed blankets around him. Perhaps he beat against fate, which was wrapping itself around him in dark tentacles, preparing him for something he didn't at all like or really want to know. Anger seethed within him as foreboding iced his veins. The girl was too calm, too withdrawn, too uncaring. Her concerns were not for men or mortals, but for intangible inevitability.

Lashing out, he snarled, "Besides, it didn't seem like you hated him all that much. You served him, didn't you?"

"He thought I served him, but I served another purpose." Kanna replied with mild disdain. "As if I, we, the _Void_, could ever be so harnessed."

It hit him, suddenly. "The destruction of the Shikon no Tama. That's what you wanted. That's why you served him, or pretended to, or whatever."

She nodded, that faint smile almost chilling.

Wrinkling his nose and lips in a condescending sneer, Bankotsu demanded, "What made you think that _Naraku_ would destroy the Jewel of Four Souls? He wanted it whole, so that he could use its power for himself! You can't be _that_ stupid!"

Her laugh was acidic. Perhaps the Void had emotions after all, if only scathing contempt for a man's limited understanding. "It does not matter to us _how_ the Jewel is destroyed. Used for ultimate evil or ultimate good, the Jewel will dissolve and cease to exist. That is something few understand or even comprehend. Naraku didn't, and neither did or do the reincarnated priestesses, Kikyo and Kagome. They believe that the Jewel will only disappear if a truly selfless wish, one full of good intent, were made upon it. That is not so. A wish of true evil would destroy the Jewel just as much as one of true purity."

Bankotsu could only stare at her.

The small child-form of the Void went on, blithely unconcerned with his growing astonishment. "Naraku had the potential to make that wish, to finally destroy the Shikon no Tama for all time."

She looked at him then, almost coquettishly. "And so did you."

"What…" Bankotsu felt an icy stab of fear deep in his gut. He had to swallow the dryness from his throat. "What do you mean?"

"It was why I revived you, Bankotsu. With Naraku gone, there was no one else I could think of who could be influenced enough by the dark demons trapped inside the Jewel to use it for his own personal gain. One with enough lack of understanding and uncontained passion to turn a simple wish into something truly destructive. Your convictions, while misguided, carried great weight in your heart. You had great passion, and little restraint. The anger burned into your soul at the betrayal of men…your driven need for strength and rejection of weaker emotion…your belief that nothing existed beyond this world…your very forsaking of the gods in the face of bitterness and betrayal---all of that would have driven you to the point where nothing would have held you back from making the ultimate sacrifice to gain true strength. There is that which is in most men which fears the greatest touch of power, even as he desires it. You had the potential to not only seek that power, but to not _care_."

Bankotsu shivered. All that the child of the Void said rang true; he knew it deep down inside, where he could not lie even to himself. But he had changed, he was not the angry, bitter man he had been…

"Something interfered, however. You have changed, and I believe it could only be by _her_ hand that it was done. The priestess---Midoriko." Kanna came as close as she ever could to displaying disgust. Perhaps it was simply impatience. "That miko is misguided by her faith. She entraps herself for eternity by believing that only a pure wish should be made upon the Jewel, that that is the only _acceptable_ way in which the Shikon no Tama should be destroyed."

Something nagged at him, and his eyes darkened as a whisper of anger stirred at the insidious thought. "But the wish made upon the Jewel, the one that has power enough to break it, won't it be granted? Won't it come true? Won't that very granting be the thing that finally destroys it? The Jewel?"

"Yes," Kanna replied with casual disinterest.

"But---" Bankotsu still could not believe how uncaring she seemed, how indifferent. "But a dark wish strong enough to dissolve the Jewel, wouldn't that result in releasing an evil far worse than the Jewel itself?"

"Perhaps." She smiled faintly, as if his demands amused to her. "But it would eventually fail. The Shikon no Tama lives on because of Midoriko's fervor. It will not die unless it is completely destroyed. If a wish of true evil was the one to do it, then perhaps the Dark would gain the upper hand against the Light for a while. Eventually, though, the Balance between them would be restored."

_But what about in the meantime? Does it not matter to her?_

_Could_ it matter to her? She was the Void, after all, one truly untouched by the cares of men.

She seemed to follow his harried thoughts. "We are beyond gods or men. We are _Other_---separate from that which is good and evil. We are Balance, and we are Nothing. It does not matter to us that _this_ world might be kept or destroyed. We only seek the balance of Order and Chaos. Right and wrong do not concern us---could never concern us."

Ice stilled Bankotsu's soul in dawning dread at her words. For she showed her true nature, her true lack of interest with that strange intermingling of 'I' and 'we' and twisting explanation. A nature which was more frightening in its way than even the most foul demons of hell.

Because she---she was far worse than they could ever be. She was _Indifference_.

It seemed as if she did follow his thoughts---though maybe they were writ plain upon his face, for he was beyond being able to control his emotional reaction to her casual disdain.

"It does not matter to us, how the Jewel is destroyed. Whether by good or evil, it makes no difference. The paths of Darkness are just easier to pursue than those of the Light. Helping one to make a truly evil wish on the Jewel was just less effort. But Naraku proved too weak, and was thus defeated, and you, my second choice, have been turned by the miko into a conviction of faith."

She could not keep the mild disgust from her voice, as if Midoriko's interference put her out.

"Sorry to disappoint you." Irony was lost on her, she merely stared back at him with those unfathomable black eyes.

"I have not said that you were not still the one to do it."

She startled him. Eyes narrowing, his hands tightened into fists as he snarled, "You think I could be turned to anger so easily?"

The faint, mocking smile was back.

With great deliberation, he let the anger go. Finger by gripping finger, he unclenched his fists, relaxing his body and closing his eyes. He sought that inner _rightness_ that had fueled him and helped him, that had granted him the strength to walk away from the only woman he could ever love on this earth, and set her free of his half-life of tainted existence. She did not deserve the pain and bittersweet love of one who did not truly belong on this earth…

"The Jewel must be made whole, the wound healed." Kanna interrupted his wandering thoughts with that inane line, and although he might have released his seething fury, he could not banish how gods-be-damned _irritating_ she was.

"Back to that, are we?" He opened his eyes with a dark scowl.

"The separate Jewel shards must be fused together and made whole. The wish must be made, and the heart returned from whence it came. The wound in Midoriko's chest---where the Jewel burst forth into existence by her last, dying prayer---must be healed, and the Shikon no Tama forever destroyed." The girl finally explained her cryptic nonsense, and added coaxingly, "You are the only one who can do this, Bankotsu."

"What?" Bankotsu glared at her. "I thought I was too _pure_ now to make an evil wish upon the Jewel."

"You are."

"Then what the _fuck_ do you mean, bitch?"

It hit him then, just exactly what the Void meant, and he froze at the hideous revelation.

_She means that I am the only one right now who can make a truly selfless wish on the Jewel. That I am the only one who can put the Shikon no Tama back together, because I will have to give up my Jewel shards to do it, and if I do that…then I will die._

He shuddered. The shards in his body were the only things keeping him alive. If he sacrificed them, he sacrificed himself.

_I don't want to die. Not again. Not now. Not now that I have just begun to know life, just begun to truly understand this world. Oh, gods! Is this what You ask of me? That I give up everything, as I have given up _her? _Kami, help me…_

By this sacrifice, by this giving up of one, meager life---he would save hundreds, if not thousands, of others. For with his own sacrifice, it would be the one, truly selfless wish that was needed to destroy that dark bauble that had caused so much pain and misery.

Could he do it? Did he have the strength to do it?

For her, maybe. For her peace and happiness. For with the destruction of the Jewel, then she would be finally free to pursue a true life, instead of a continuing journey of wandering hardship and unimaginable danger. She would not have to fight anymore, and might even find true happiness with one she could love without fear.

Perhaps she could find that daimyo, that Korny-Sake or whatever his name was. That one who had claimed that he loved her, and would wait for her, no matter how long it took…

The thought hurt him, and the pain flashed deep in his twilit eyes.

_Sango…_

Gods, it hurt. Gods, did it hurt.

But what hurt worse was the thought that she would be forever denied true peace.

Fists tightening upon his thighs, he ground his teeth together and bowed his head. His voice was hoarse, his whisper harsh. "I'll do it."

The wraith-child of the Void was not capable of smug conceit. She merely nodded her acquiescence, and said softly, "You must journey to the tomb of Midoriko in the limestone caverns beneath the demon slayers' village. There, you will meet the young priestess Kagome, who carries the rest of the Jewel's shards in a glass vial. You must stand before the statue of Midoriko and wish for the Jewel to be made whole, and your life as forfeit. Your sacrifice will ensure the Jewel's destruction."

He gave her a rather petulant scowl. He didn't particularly like how self-assured she was, or how much she took his agreement for granted. She seemed to have thought of everything, including his own ready compliance. Smug little bratIt might be worth seeing just how riled she could get if he were to refuse to go through with it…

But the Void could never be affected by anything he did or did not do. Knowing her, she would just shrug and go search out the next damn victim to use for her mad little scheme. Knowing her rather dubious principles, she would probably go and find someone 'easier' to deal with---which meant she would go hunt up another dark soul full of hate and hunger.

And then he would be back at square one, because then he would be fighting for own his Jewel shards, as the ghost-girl of the Void would need them to complete the Shikon no Tama and her puppet's dark destruction.

The white ghost of a small child bowed slightly, acknowledging the tangled threads of his turbulent thoughts. Opening her hands in a small, bestowing gesture, a faint smile curving her pale lips, she allowed the cracked, half-healed bauble to roll from her lap. Bankotsu's blue eyes followed its path as it dropped from her gathered white skirts to the tatami-matted floor, where it lay face down, seamlessly smooth and glowing faintly with fuchsian malice. The white skirts seemed to pale in comparison to that mesmerizing swirl of eddying power, and he yanked his attention away with a jerk as he realized that the girl herself was slowly diminishing into a diffusing mist of hazy obscurity.

Her soft, dispassionate voice murmured into his ear even as her ghostly white form slowly faded from physical sight_. :Remember to us your pledge. The Jewel must be made whole, the wound healed, the Balance restored. Only _you_ can see that it is done…:_

"Damn you!" He pounded a fist into the tangled blankets beside him with rising ire at the _finality_ of it all. But how many countless men had ever railed in helpless fury at the desperate end allotted them by the Gods? It was as inescapable as it was inevitable, and he could only bow his head to the fate decreed him. So his frustration was short-lived, and he was left to stare broodingly at the sullen Jewel, whose smooth face glimmered with a faint aura of mocking madness.

Sango's pale visage suddenly appeared to him---her eyes wide and the desperation cut across her drawn features as she had hovered at the side of a lone dead woman in the dark, struggling with wounded wrists and burned hands to lift rocks to act as both grave and guard for one long past caring. But still she had struggled, because it was _right_, and she could not abandon anyone to the ravages of fate when she might be able to stand as shield between them.

_Damn. _His fist uncurled and he spread his hand wide, staring at the broad, sword-hardened palm and blunt, calloused fingers. It was a strong hand, a man's hand.

Was _he_ strong enough?

He would have to be.

But one last, selfish wish remained within him, and his fingers curled back into a fist as he raised dark blue eyes that glittered with grim determination.

_I must see her. If but for one, single moment. I must see her one last time._

Perhaps it was selfish of him, and unworthy of the _geas_ laid upon him. Maybe it was but a last, lingering wish to stave off the inevitable, or just the weak desire of his soul to find strength in hers---strength that he knew he might draw on to steady him for what he must do.

_I must see her…must go and tell her, at least, how I feel. And then…then I will be able to die. _


	14. Chapter 14

Disclaimer: I do not own Inuyasha, etc. This story is for entertainment purposes only.

_REDEMPTION_

Summary: Specters of the past bring forth questions for the future. Can she save his soul, or will he wander forever in darkness?

_WORDS_

_hentai - pervert_

WARNING! DARK IMAGERY AND ADULT TOPICS, ANGST, LIMES THAT START LOOKING LIKE LEMONS THOUGH REALLY ONLY BECOME LEMONADE, FLUFFY WAFF, RUN ON SENTENCES AND NAUGHTY POTTY MOUTHS, SPOILERS (EPISODE 122+)

_A/N - I can't believe how long it's been! What a couple of months! Well, today is my birthday and I decided that I need to get this chapter out, come hell or high water. I want to thank my darling Aetos for her help and inspiration, and the wonderful reviews this story has received. Somebody threatened me with bad fan-art if I didn't update fast enough, and I wanted to say I would love to have work drawn for this story, good, bad, whatever. Now THAT would be a birthday present! (Fate)_

_CHAPTER FOURTEEN_

Dropping the filled bucket to the floor with a heavy _thump, _Sango wiped a tired hand across her sweaty brow, leaving her bangs in tangled disarray. With a resigned grimace, the taijiya fell to her hands and knees and reached for the scrub brush.

Kirara regarded her with wide-eyed bemusement from the safety of a low shelf built along one wall. Twin tails flicked from side to side as she watched the young slayer dip the brush into the sudsy water and slosh it around a few times before applying it briskly to the floor. Sango made her way around the small hut, whose floor seemed infinitely wider the more she scrubbed. Dirty water splashed across her kilted up skirt until the hem slapped and dragged around her bent knees. The humid heat of the sunny day was oppressive, even in the dim shade of the cot, and long black hairs kept escaping her loose ponytail to cling to her cheeks or arms with itchy irritation.

Sango took her frustrations out on the floor, scrubbing until the dull ache in her tight muscles turned to numb weariness, and only sat back on her heels when she nearly bumped her head on the bottom of the lower shelves. Wide red eyes stared down at her with whisker-twitching curiosity, and Sango smiled faintly as she surveyed her work with a tired sense of pleased accomplishment.

Tossing the brush back into the bucket with a splash of dirty water, Sango raked the sweaty tangles back off of her forehead and cheeks, leaving streaks of dusty grime in their wake. Her back ached from kneeling for so long, and so she arched her spine with one hand at the small of it until it popped as she got shakily to her feet. Her knees throbbed with returning sensation, and she shook her head ruefully. She felt like an old woman, and far worse than she ever had coming from a battle.

Whoever said housework was _light_ work was an idiot.

Sango pulled the loosened white ribbon from her hair, which had mostly escaped from its captivity during her hard exertions. Gods, she could use a bath. The thought of the small, diverted river---whose splashing waters were mountain-fed and often cold---was one of pleasure instead of resignation. The day was unseasonably warm for this time of year, and the humidity was stifling under the sun's basking gaze. Beads of sweat dripped down her back, and she wrinkled her nose at the dirty splashes across her yukata.

"I think I've done enough for now, eh, Kirara?" Sango scratched the lolling kitten behind her ears. Kirara batted at the trailing fingers with her little black paws, tails lashing as she purred and rubbed a cheek against Sango's palm.

"Want to join me?" Sango invited with a little smile, already knowing the answer. It was Kirara's turn to wrinkle her nose with distaste and slap the slayer's petting fingers with an admonishing black paw. A paw the neko then started to clean with single-minded intensity, showing that _she_ had better ways to bathe herself than immersing in icy-cold water pulled down from the mountains.

"I'll take that as a no." Sango gave the creamy kitten one last caress, which she submitted to with shameless abandon, before suddenly remembering her forsaken dignity and sitting back upright with a rather aloof expression.

Laughing for the first time in what felt like forever, Sango exited the dim interior of the hut. Mud squelched between her toes---the humidity kept the ground from drying completely, and as the rain would probably come again tonight as it had the last four, it was never given the chance. Sango nabbed her sandals and the clean, white yukata she usually kept for sleeping, and hurried through the tattered village, eager to wash the dirt and sweat from her skin.

The small river that ran down from the craggy mountain peaks just outside the village walls had been diverted to feed both village and fields. Irrigation ditches had been dug to help flood the rice paddies in the dry season, and a small stream hollowed out to flow through the village itself. Years of repeated spring flooding had worn the channel into a deeper rut than the clan had first constructed, and small areas had been sectioned off for various use.

Drinking water was fetched from atop a rocky rise that had been built for the purpose, in a small cistern at the end nearest the outer wall. Splashing down over the rocky lip of the cistern, the water pooled into a convenient spot for bathing, eventually eddying into a slower stream where the women used to kneel on the grassy bank to do their laundry. At one time, the splashing pool had been cut off from sight by a raised, wooden partition to shield those who were bathing. Demon slayers were more assiduous in their personal hygiene than most peasant villages, for they knew what dirt in a wound or a youkai's insidious poison could do.

The partition was mere splinters now, but Sango paid it no mind. There was no one here to gawk, and so she shed her dirty clothes with relief, leaving them in a trailing pile as she crossed the grassy verge to the swirling pool's bank. Easing herself into the deep pool, which came to her waist, she felt her muscles loosen and relax in the cold water, which felt heavenly on her sweaty, hot skin.

Ducking beneath the water's surface, she felt the heavy tangles of her long black hair float free in the swirling current. She basked for a long moment of sheer bliss before the icy touch of the water got to her and she finally emerged with chattering teeth and goose-pimpled skin.

Shivering now, she made her way to the splashing, man-made waterfall, which acted much in the way Kagome had described as a shower would, back in her own time. The young miko had been delighted to find such a modern convenience in the feudal era, though she was more fond of taking long, luxuriant soaks in sulfurous hot springs. Kagome had made some rather interesting shrieks at the touch of that frigid water the first time she had tried it---causing an ever-anxious Inuyasha to come running to her rescue. Kagome's shrieks as the hanyou burst in on them had achieved a rather piercingly unique volume of outrage, followed by a shouted _'Sit!' _that had carved a decent-sized, hanyou-shaped hole in the ground.

Sango smiled softly at the memory even as her fingers combed though her tangled hair. That was one of the first times she had ever seen Kagome's unique ability to subdue the silver-haired half-demon, and she could remember how pissed off Inuyasha had been about it. Fortunately, Miroku had chosen just that moment to try and catch a peep at the bathing girls himself, and so the hanyou's anger had been diverted into trouncing the hentai houshi who had tried to shrug off his bad timing with a weak laugh.

She missed her friends. It would be good to leave the empty village and return to Lady Kaede's. Sango wondered if Kagome had come back yet, and what they all might be doing. She had gathered enough of the herbs that the old priestess would be delighted with the harvested addition to her stores, and she had only been filling in the extra hours with busy-work to pass the time. The storehouse was secure, and she had even managed to rig shutters on the old healer's hut she slept in. She would make sure to bar the windows and doorway so that the next time she returned she wouldn't have to work so hard to have a ready place to sleep…

Funny how things had turned out between them all. When she had first met Inuyasha and Kagome, she had thought that they might never admit their true feelings for one another, though that had changed once both Kikyou and Naraku were gone. At one time, she herself had entertained dreams of being happy with Miroku---though rosy romance had changed over time and deepened into firm friendship, not love. She wouldn't have been truly content with him, and had always worried about his comparative loyalty to any one woman. If nothing else, Miroku was true to his ancestors, for the tales of their lechery and idle flirtations were as profligate as his own…

No, she decided, she could never have been happy with Miroku. She needed a love that was for her alone, one that was as loyal and steadfast as her own heart would be. For once her love was given, she could not take it back, and the haunting pain of that realization still lurked inside of her, though she had tried to stave it off with hard work and grim distraction. For she had been foolish enough to finally give her heart to one who could not return it, and she now paid the price of that singular foolishness. She could try and distract herself all she wanted, but sill the denied longing for him lingered, and her smile faded as her thoughts grew lost and weary.

_Bankotsu…_

She blinked back the tears that were always so ready to fall, and shook herself. The chill of the icy water matched the chill certainty that hovered in her lonely heart, and she shivered with more than the eerie awareness of it. Distraction was the best way to ignore that ever-raw pain, and so she picked up the pungent soap made of flowers and herbs she had pounded out herself with pestle and mortar and ducked beneath the splashing falls to wash out her tangled hair.

But memories hovered too close to the surface, and she remembered another icy waterfall, where she had knelt before darkening cobalt eyes in blushing hesitation, embarrassed at the lurid thoughts that had circled through her mind even as her nipples had hardened, as now, and her breasts had felt oddly heavy. Her breath had come short, as it did now, and the tingling butterflies of desire had fluttered deep in her belly, awakening a strange ache of longing in her loins.

Then, as now, she stood in a strange dawning awareness of her body, muscles tensed and skin tingling with awakened sensation. Leaning her head into the splashing spray of falling water, she shuddered with silent longing, not knowing what caused it, but somehow feeling as if…

Back stiffening in alarm, Sango whirled around.

Her eyes widened in shock as her mouth fell open in astonishment.

_I must be dreaming. I _have_ to be dreaming._

For there he stood, eyes dark and shoulders tensed. His giant sword was slung negligently over one shoulder, propped casually with one hand as if it weighed nothing. The sun glittered off of his armor, shading the feathery swirls of his tabard into darker lines and glinting off the pristine white silks of his hakama and haori. Inky blue tints were brought out in the midnight fall of his tumbling bangs, and his tanned skin glowed like soft, golden leather.

Sango gasped, an opened palm covering the quickened beating of her heart as her other hand closed in a nervous fist of disbelief.

"Bankotsu…" She breathed his name, her brown eyes honeying into cinnamon at the wealth of emotion that welled up inside of her.

"Ninja." He grinned at her, though it slowly faded as his blue eyes glided over the naked, water-beaded flesh revealed to him. His gaze darkened with desire, the intensity of his shadowed eyes making Sango's chest heave as her breath came short.

_"Bankotsu," _was all she said, the intensity of her sudden, awful longing making her whisper husky with long-denied emotion. Her curled fist slowly opened in a gesture of helpless need, and it was all the signal the mercenary needed to have him dropping his sword with uncaring disregard and striding to her side.

Careless of clothing or armor, he clambered over the bank with single-minded purpose. Wading through the swirling water, Sango shuddered as he took her into his strong arms, his hands curving over her shoulders to haul her to him, his head bending to capture her parted lips in a searing kiss that ravaged through her senses and left her gasping against him, helpless as the fires of fierce passion were lit within her.

His kiss, hard and demanding, claimed her to his keeping, and she could only lean into his strong embrace as passion ignited sensations long dormant within her. His mouth softened, coaxing and tender, begging entry, and she obliged, parting her lips and gasping anew as his tongue slid against hers, tasting her for the first time.

His raw hunger for her had him pressing her lithe body tight against him as Sango's shaking fingers feathered across his wide shoulders and lightly touched his jaw, finally entwining at the nape of his neck as she deepened the kiss that had them both reeling with thundering desire. For long moments they were lost in one another, the sensations of the body overstepping the needs of the soul, but Bankotsu finally broke away with fierce necessity, and his strong hands clasped her damp cheeks, tangling in the midnight tendrils of her hair.

"Sango, sweet Sango…" He murmured, his eyes intense and wanting. "Gods, how I've wanted this, how I've wanted _you_. You can't know how much---"

"Please," was all she begged, her own need making her shiver as her heart clenched. Desire might be enough for now, though the love must remain hidden in her cinnamon eyes. He could never know how much she cared, how deeply she needed him, and for more than just this simple sharing of awakened passion. This could be nothing more to him than a need fulfilled---

"Sango, I…I love you."

Her soul shuddered in dawning revelation, and the tears that blurred her eyes slowly fell as the world opened up around her. Her heart was freed, and her spirit sang in a joy so profound it shook her to the core even as it sent her soul soaring on wings of exquisite possibility.

"Bankotsu…" She choked, unbent emotion thickening her voice.

"Please…don't say anything. I know that you could never love me, for I am dead and not really of this earth. I…I just needed to tell you, just needed to say it. You don't…you don't need to…" The flash of pain in his blue eyes was heart-wrenching, the emotional weakness laid bare for all the world to see in one who had always shunned weakness of any kind.

He could not know the gift he made to her, and the tears shining in her honey-warmed eyes made his own heart tighten with the false truth of despair. But the brilliance of her slowly dawning smile made him pause, his breath catching as his world stood still in breathless yearning.

"Bankotsu…Bankotsu, I love you. I love you so much it hurts me…" She sobbed aloud her glad cry of recognition. Bankotsu stared at her in stunned disbelief for a single moment before the world came crashing back in on him, and the knowledge of it had him crushing her to him, his lips seeking hers as their souls shuddered as one.

"Gods, Sango…I…" He gasped with hoarse awakening, and she pressed a slender finger to his lips.

"Say nothing for now…just…hold me. Please." She said, the joy in her beautiful brown eyes speaking untold volumes.

And as their arms tightened and their bodies became one under the thundering spray of the baptism of new-found love, they both knew that it was enough for now.

Enough, perhaps, for all eternity.

_1414141414141414_

"Are you sore?" He asked, a finger gently tucking a long black strand of errant hair behind her ear.

Sango blushed under that earnest blue gaze, and dropped her eyes to her lap, where her fingers knitted together. "I'm fine," she whispered. "Thank you."

He laughed suddenly, and kissed her hard and quickly. "Why so formal, ninja-girl? After what we just did---"

Her blush turned hotter, and she punched him---hard---in the shoulder. He just laughed again, rubbing the sore spot with one hand and hauling her bodily across his lap with the other. Sango struggled for a brief moment, and then relaxed against his broad chest, the tanned skin warm and very much alive under her splayed fingers. He kissed the top of her tangled black head, his strong arms coming up to circle around her and hug her to him with light emphasis.

"Ah, ninja, you'll get used to it." He said with twinkling blue eyes. "I like to tease the blush from you…" A shadow flickered across his gaze for a moment, but she did not see it, and he ignored darker fate to embrace the here and now.

"Used to it?" Her own eyes flashed, and she had him toppled over with a dirty move that would have made her father beam. Bankotsu was not one to sit by and let her win---he soon had her shrieking with gasping laughter as his skilled fingers sought out the ticklish spots he well remembered from various contests in the past. It was no holds barred, and Sango finally grabbed one of his wrists, jerking his elbow up behind his back in a painful twist as she literally sat on him to keep him still beneath her, laughing down at him in triumph.

Blue eyes gleamed with knowing promise, and her victory was short-lived. Flipping out of her hold, and toppling her over in surprise, Bankotsu soon had her tumbled beneath him, where he pressed his advantage of weight, making sure to give a little added pressure to certain sensitive areas in a way that had her gasping in stunned awareness.

"Oh, holy heavens," Sango breathed, her eyes wide.

"Like that, do you?" He leered down at her before claiming her soft mouth in a kiss that left no doubts in either mind where it would eventually lead…

He was gentle this time, slow and considerate. Passion came gently on whispered wings of promise, fulfillment a slow climb that built to a crescendo of shuddering pleasure that left them both dazed and gasping, desperately holding on to one another like a lifeline through the dizzying heights of unfledged fervor.

"I love you." He whispered softly as her eyes closed in spent exhaustion until they finally slept entangled together in that grassy bed, the sun dappling warmth across their skin and the faint murmur of the bubbling pool a song to lull them…

_1414141414141414_

It was hunger of another kind that finally woke them, and Sango rolled out of his arms with a groan as her belly growled its complaint. His grumbled in answer, and she smiled at him, an open smile that took his breath away with just how damn beautiful she was. Automatically, he reached for her, but she slipped out of his arms with a blushing shake of her tousled black head.

"I should go and start dinner, and see if Kirara is okay." She explained with a light kiss of apology. "I'm surprised she didn't attack you, just showing up in the village like you did…"

Bankotsu scratched the back of his neck with a rueful flush of his own. "Ah, well, uh…she did. Almost scared the crap out of me, swooping down like that. But she…ah…well, just led me to where you were…ah…bathing…and, well…I was a little too busy then to see what became of her."

Sango stared down at his flushing countenance and giggled. Scowling, Bankotsu grabbed a hold of one hand and pulled her back down to him with a tangled tumble of arms and legs and a loud _"oof!"_ of protest. He then kissed her, hard and thoroughly, until she was dazed and sighing in his arms, looking up at him with dreamy brown eyes of aching hunger.

With a wicked smile, he asked with feigned innocence, "Didn't you mention something about dinner? Gods, I'm about starved right now…"

"What?" She blinked, her eyes darkening dangerously.

His hearty guffaw made her scowl and punch his arm again. Struggling to rise and fending off his half-hearted attempts to keep her with him, she stalked over to where her crumpled white yukata lay forgotten on the bank. He pouted as she covered the enticing view of her naked flesh with the soft, white folds, his lips twisting in wry amusement as she double-knotted the obi into place.

Slipping her feet into woven sandals, she was about to say something when she paused, blushing.

Bankotsu whirled around, one hand unconsciously groping for the dagger never too far from his side. Half-crouching, he relaxed as the enlarged fire cat sat down on its haunches, its wide, glowing eyes staring at both of them with unwavering interest.

"Kirara," Sango said faintly.

The neko blinked slowly, and the purr that came out of her could have been the earth trembling below them in quaking aftershocks, it was so loud. Sango's laugh was one of unfettered joy, and Bankotsu felt his heart clench at the sound of it as the lithe taijiya ran to hug her dearest friend with unusual abandon. It was as if the freed spirit of a young child danced in those beautiful brown eyes, and he could not feel jealous as the neko butted her large head against the slayer, who scratched the black-tipped ears and hugged the giant cat with fierce gratitude.

Kirara made a low noise in the back of her throat, and lightly nudged Sango in the direction of the tumbled-down huts of the village. "You're hungry too, eh?" The taijiya chucked the cat under the chin, who closed her eyes and purred. Sango turned to smile back at him. "I'll go on to Naoru's; I have to build up the fire and see if I have enough to feed all of us. Once you're ready, Kirara can show you the way."

He watched the sway of her hips as she walked away, the free-flowing length of her long black hair feathering slightly in the small breeze that had risen to play with it. He sat staring with the warmth in his eyes until the giant neko made a rude noise to catch his distracted attention.

Blinking, Bankotsu turned his head. The cat stared at him with unruffled calm, dignity personified. "Was that you?" He demanded.

She wrinkled her nose at him, showing long fangs capable of tearing a man from neck to thigh without much effort, and jagged teeth that would make a quick meal of him afterwards.

"Huh." Scratching the back of his neck with the pommel of his dagger, he decided to ignore the large youkai to search out his clothes, which had been scattered here and there in the heat of passion. Hardly self-conscious, he stalked the grassy bank bare-assed until he found his wrinkled hakama, still somewhat damp, and stopped to pull them on. Knotting his obi with careless disdain, he located armor and tabard, as well as the black wrappings for both arm and leg. He was somewhat disgruntled to find his white haori floating inside-out in the swirling pool, where it had snagged on a bit of broken board. Thankfully, it hadn't washed downstream. It would have been a big pain in the ass to go chasing it through the ruined village…

Still, he grimaced as he fished the sopping fabric out of the icy water and stood staring at it in disgust.

Kirara chuffed, almost as if she were laughing at him.

Bankotsu scowled. "Not funny, cat."

She just raised a capable black paw, carefully cleaning her unsheathed claws with pointed emphasis.

"I love her, you know." His fists, one hand still clutching his balled-up haori, came to rest on his hips, and he tried to glare at the damn cat, but the wet fabric slapped him smartly on the thigh, and he jumped, his nerves strung out and too much on edge.

Twin tails twitched with suppressed amusement.

Nostrils flaring, Bankotsu thought how good it would feel to chop those tails off with one solid swipe of Banryuu's wide blade. Damn cat. Muttering to himself as he went to retrieve the various daggers that littered the grassy bank, he grumbled, "Stupid neko. Whoever fucking heard of a _demon slayer _keeping company with a _demon?"_

Kirara made a noise that had him whirling around in disbelief.

"Did you just blow me a _raspberry_, cat?" He demanded with incredulous astonishment.

Kirara just blew him another in answer.

He surprised them both by laughing. "Gods, cat, your as bad as your mistress."

Kirara only purred, her tails curling round her paws with smug superiority.

_1414141414141414_

Sango wiggled her toes, her dangling legs slightly swinging as she leaned against him, her eyes on the widened panorama of a beautiful sunset. Clouds hazed the horizon, touched with gold, red and ocher splendor in fanning waves across the sky. A fat moon, nearly full, hung pale at the furthest edge, the blue sky around it shadowing as the sun sunk ever lower, bathing the craggy mountains with brilliant shades of purple indigo and lavender influence. She sighed, nestling against him, and the boards creaked as he changed his weight, drawing her closer with a draped arm across her shoulders.

She had taken him on an impromptu tour of the small village after he had inhaled his way through three bowls of stewed fish and rice, praising her cooking until she blushed, knowing that it wasn't really worth that much approval. He happened to be a far better cook than she, and both of them knew it, but still he had declared the simple meal to be the best he had ever tasted. He had deftly dodged the mock-punch she gave him with a warm laugh, grabbing her for a kiss that left her breathless. Kirara had bestowed their antics with a rather sour look of disgust.

He had helped her clean up, and then asked after the small hut and the few repairs she had made. He was impressed with her industry, and she had been surprised by both his knowledge and his curiosity. He asked about the different buildings, their purpose and who it was that had lived there. She had told him; first with the acute pain of memory for the forever-silenced, but then with a growing sense of calm acceptance. It was as if something had been made free within her, and she spoke more casually, without the pain of loss, but rather with the warmth of recollection. It was as if talking about the past with him made her relive the good of it, and not the pain. She spoke of the people who had made this small village such an oasis of warmth and safety in a dark world of treachery, even recounting some of the stupid, tired-out jokes that only people who had lived here had known and relished the retelling.

"It will live again, Sango." He had said quietly, his hand warm and strong as it clasped hers, the fingers entwined tightly between them.

"It can…" Sango had said, staring around her before looking up at him with open love in her deep brown eyes, "…now."

He had abruptly looked away from her, and let go of her hand. Confused and slightly hurt by the abrupt motion, he had distracted her by vaulting to the lower roof of the pottery shed, the ancient structure moaning with complaint at his weight. He had grinned down at her like a mischievous child, looking around him with triumph lighting his dark blue eyes.

"C'mere," he'd invited, and yanked her up beside him when she had frowned in bewilderment. "The view's worth it!"

It had been, unparalleled as it was, facing just slightly to the left of the setting sun. And so they sat, legs dangling over the roof's edge, side by side and content, for the moment, to be exactly where they were, and with each other.

They watched in silence for a time, as the sky slowly darkened into tints of indigo that rivaled Bankotsu's eyes and the moon brightened into a silver piece among the feathery tendrils of wafting clouds. Sango suddenly turned to stare up at him, and she asked, a little afraid to break the calm quiet, but needing to know, "Why did you leave?"

He looked down at her, his eyes shadowed in the blue twilight. Sango felt her breath catch, and looked down at her folded hands. "It was because I am weak, isn't it," she whispered softly.

"Weak?"

The astonishment in his voice drew her head up to stare at him in confusion.

"You're not weak," he growled.

Sango shrugged, unbelieving.

"You're not weak," he insisted, leaning over so her could pull her chin up and stare into her eyes. "Where in all that's stupid did you ever get that idea?"

"But…" Sango sputtered between warmth and outrage.

"Gods, you're stubborn." His sigh was gusty and impatient. Wooden shingles creaked in protest as he shifted his weight to stare at her fully, cradling the sides of her narrow face in both palms. A calloused thumb gently traced the outline of her lips, preventing her from protesting.

"You are the strongest person I have ever met, taijiya, but you can sure be a damn idiot sometimes."

Her indignation was muffled as his thumb pressed lightly on her lips, keeping her silent.

"What could ever make you think that _you_ are weak?" The disgust was plain in his voice, though she could not see his eyes as the night darkened from deep blue to purple velvet. "And I'm not talking about physical strength, because I got you there." The arrogance was plain in his hard voice as he continued, "I am talking of strength of spirit and strength of will. Gods, Sango! How could you think you are _weak?_ You are the strongest person I know, damn it. Can't you even see it in yourself? You will fight for what you _know_ is right until you can't fight anymore, and even then you probably won't give up. Because you _can't_. Because you are who you are, and that is what makes me feel all stupid and humble and all messed up inside, because I know just how damn _honorable_ you are, how proud and how strong in every damn thing that could ever make any damn difference---in faith and honor, love and trust. _Gods_, girl, can't you _see_ it?"

"But---"

He blocked her protest with a hard kiss, growling, "You are going to drive me crazy, you know that? Don't you see that it is _I_ who draw strength from _you? _Damn it, taijiya, you are as thick as a damn tree sometimes! So you might have a weak thought or a weak moment. Is that anything to beat yourself up over? Can't you cut yourself some damn slack? Damn perfectionist. Well, everything isn't always fucking perfect, and that's the gods-honest truth of it. Even for _you_. So you slip up once in a while and feel damn sorry for yourself. So the fuck what? Like you don't have a damn reason? You've lost your whole fucking family, you're whole damn clan! That's not something to cry about? To feel bitter and angry and damn pissed about? What are you, a fucking saint? To hell with that! You're human, damn it, and it's _okay_."

He held her then, as she sobbed into his hard chest, his arms tight around her as her soul finally released all of its pain and its fears, and maybe, somehow, he also felt some lightening of the dark burdens that he had always carried, because he comforted her and said softly, "We are only human, and we must learn to forgive ourselves, even as we must find the strength within us to keep going. Because, in the end, there is nothing but the _Fight_, and what we do in this world, what choices we make and what honor we keep. If we have the chance to make some small difference, then…then we must take it, must chance it. You understand me?"

She nodded, her tears drying and her heart opening in that breath of inner knowledge. Because she understood what drove him, what drove her, and the fact that neither could have ever stood by and let others do what they should be doing themselves. To give up, to ever give up, was to accept defeat, and she might as well lay down and die right then and there, because that was all the damn difference she would ever make in this world, and it was unworthy of her, her clan or her calling.

"Thank you," she told him, the gratitude for what he gave her matched only by the love shining in her eyes. Perhaps neither was strong enough alone---but then again, weren't they? For each of them had fought and gone on before without the other. Their strengths complimented and fed the other's, but neither could ever be the lesser of the other, but would rather be the equal, just with different strengths and different gifts to give or to share.

"Damn you, ninja-girl. You know me, as I know you. You'll be all right, in the end." He held her close, his eyes hooded and dark as he gazed into the unseen distance as she snuggled against him, drawing from his strength even as he drew from hers for what he knew he must do, and the pain it would bring to them both…

_1414141414141414_

Even he, strong and determined as he was to do what had been laid on him by the gods to do, had his weak moments of doubt and whispered pain and regret, and it was then that he turned to her during that long, poignant night, shamelessly taking from her the comfort and love and assurance her generous soul was so ready to give. He loved her with a single-minded intensity that left her gasping, and a hungry desperation that sought to keep the heavy knowledge of bitter fate at bay for as long as humanly possible.

For just now that he had finally found a true love, a true companion and a true soul-mate to complete his own, he must abandon her to face the darkness alone. He tried to stave off the inevitable, but time slipped away, one grain of sand at time, until the night closed in around them to wait the breath of a dreary dawn. She finally slept, wrapped in dreams of hope and fulfillment, a small smile touching across her soft lips as he bent to kiss them for the last time, the pain heavy in his dark eyes.

"Sango…" He whispered, heart torn and bitter. The loneliness enclosed him once more in bitter irony, and it was the thought of her and what happiness she might be able to find one day in a world freed of the shadowed taint of the treacherous Jewel of Four Souls that allowed him to step away from her with firmed jaw and straightened shoulders.

Lifting the edge of the heavy bamboo curtain that covered the doorway, he glanced back, once and for the last time, trying to hold her beloved face forever in his memory. A soft echo of another spirit's words whispered in the darkened shadows between them.

"Live strong, my ninja. Be happy."

And with resolution hardening his heart, he turned away to step out into the weeping dawn.


	15. Chapter 15

Disclaimer: I do not own Inuyasha, etc. This story is for entertainment purposes only.

_REDEMPTION_

Summary: Specters of the past bring forth questions for the future. Can she save his soul, or will he wander forever in darkness?

_WORDS_

_Shikon no Tama - Jewel of Four Souls_

WARNING! DARK IMAGERY AND ADULT TOPICS, FLUFFY WAFF, LIMEY BEHAVIOR AND PURE ANGST, RUN ON SENTENCES AND REALLY BAD POTTY MOUTHS, SPOILERS (EPISODE 122+)

_A/N - I can't believe it! I have finally finished a story. Hallelujah! This little fic has taken the best of me, and opened my eyes to endless possibility. Many thanks go to the continued reviews this story has received, and I may just have to extend it to a little epilogue, an idea I am still playing with. Anywho, I'll quit while I'm ahead and just give many, many gracias to the friends and reviewers who supported my writing, even in the dark times of slow updates and escaped plot bunnies. Thank you again! (Fate)_

_CHAPTER FIFTEEN_

"Ow!" Kagome winced as she landed right on her bottom. Though amply padded, the rocks of the canyon's floor were hard and unyielding, and boy, did it _hurt!_ The rain certainly didn't help, dripping down as it was and making her shiver in the echoingly damp silence of a rather morbid dawn.

"Kagome!" Shippou slid down the sloping canyon's path right after her in a small shower of disturbed rocks and pebbles, green eyes anxious. Better able to get a grip on the shifting trail by digging in his back paws, he used the downward momentum to leap to the young miko's shoulder at the last minute.

"Kagome, are you all right?" He asked his adopted okaa-san, touching her dust-streaked cheek with tentative inquiry.

"Of course I am---" Her reassurance was cut off by her mate's ominous bellow, which was loud enough to wake the dead. Kagome winced mentally as a red blur vaulted over the canyon's shale-covered slope, landing beside her with far more grace than her own ignoble tumble down the descending trace.

"Damn it, Kagome! I told you to wait while I checked out the village! You could have gotten hurt!" He bristled at her, irritation personified in crossed arms and molten amber eyes.

"Kagome! Are you all right?" Miroku called from the canyon rim a few feet above their heads.

"Kirara!" Shippou shouted with happy recognition, waving at the large neko who wrinkled her nose at the disheveled pair and sniffed in reply. Standing beside the blue-robed monk, the youkai easily came to Miroku's waist in her larger form.

"Kirara!" Kagome called as the houshi graciously accepted a ride down to the canyon floor from the fiery-footed youkai. Turning back to her mate, she demanded, "Where's Sango?"

"Sleeping." Inuyasha said, a shadowed scowl darkening his eyes for a moment. "Kagome, I should let you know that Sango…"

"What?" Kagome turned frightened eyes upon her mate, abruptly rising from where she had been dusting off her green fuku with sharp, disgusted motions. She didn't like the look in the hanyou's golden gaze, a strange mixture of angry question and plain old suspicion. "What's wrong, Inuyasha? Is Sango hurt?"

"She's fine." He said with short words, relenting enough to hug her to him in reassurance. "She's sleeping, like I told you, and Kirara made a big fuss when I wanted to wake her up. She probably needs to sleep, she looked tired as all hell."

"You're sure?" Kagome asked, and his ears twitched with irritation.

"Damn it, Kagome---"

Shippou giggled, recalling the pair of them to his presence on the miko's shoulder. The kitsune's smile was mischief itself, and Kagome wiped at her sodden bangs with an impatient hand, flushing as Inuyasha leveled a hot glare at the incorrigible fox.

"Kagome, you weren't hurt in the fall, were you?" Miroku asked with courteous attention, easily breaking up the tensed atmosphere between them with an amused glint in his warm, inviting gaze. "I could check you over, you know, to make certain…"

Inuyasha turned a hotter glare on the incorrigible monk. "Don't you dare, hentai!"

Miroku shrugged with helpless insincerity. "It's ever my curse, Inuyasha. Forgive me. I cannot help myself in the presence of a beautiful woman."

"Spare me." The hanyou bit out as he stalked past them. Kagome shook her head at the inveterate monk, kneeling down to give Kirara a quick hug.

"Kirara, _is_ Sango just sleeping?" She asked in a low whisper so that her irritated mate wouldn't hear the traitorous question. The neko blinked once in affirmation, and butted her large, creamy head against Kagome's scraped knees. Shippou took the opportunity to jump from her shoulder to the neko's, where he perched with a wide grin, his little paws burying themselves in the thick fur with delight at the warmth.

Rain dripped incessantly from the lowered clouds above them. What weak light there was seemed filtered through a grayed blanket of bleak misery. Kagome shivered, wishing she had thought to bring along her umbrella. Her short, woolen skirt dragged around her thighs and her shirt was now smeared with muddy streaks that would take her forever to get out, unless she managed to get back home long enough to run a load of laundry. She wondered if Inuyasha would let her take that much time, and then shook her head. Here she was, worrying about mud on her school uniform, and who knew what all was going on just around that bend, in Midoriko's abandoned tomb.

Wondering why the ancient miko had decided to pop inside her head to utter dark warnings about a taijiya who just happened to be back in her own village, comfortably snoring, Kagome hurried to catch up with her mate and the monk, who had stopped just at the sharp curving bend of the narrow canyon, where it widened into a small area before the entrance to the cavernous tomb. Reaching them, Kagome's mouth opened, but she couldn't think of anything to say, stunned as she was to see the thick curtain of swirling blue energy _gone_.

Gone, as if it had never been there, swirling across the cave's mouth with protective eddies of sacred power, guarding the secrets of the tomb from all but the pure of heart and noble of intent. The legendary priestess had guarded the cave zealously, rejecting those who sought to venture inside for their own selfish gain. Even Myouga, with his singular lust for knowledge, had been rejected until he abased himself, smartly reminded to pity those who had lost themselves to the taint of the ill-fated Jewel…

But the entrance stood uncovered and untouched, as if no power had ever crossed it from rock-etched wall to mountain-hewn ceiling. The rain hissed around her, seeping through the tangled locks of her heavy hair. Shivering, Kagome extended her senses, seeking any trace of the miko's formidable power, and was comforted by the presence of welcoming purity from within, touched by an almost kindred recognition. Her own power---mostly ignored and often dormant, though it was still always _there_, inside her---rose slowly in answer. Kagome stepped forward as one bemused, her legs breaking into a stumbling run as conscious thought dissolved under that drawing influence…

_1515151515151515_

"Kagome!" Inuyasha bellowed after his impetuous mate, who was disappearing into that thrice-be-damned cave, all but running like one cracked in the head. Gripping the hilt of his Tetsusaiga with a growl, the hanyou made to follow, but was stopped by an all-too-familiar sound that rose from just behind him…

The roar welled up the narrow canyon walls, bouncing off the rocky heights and echoing back down the treacherous limestone slopes with eerie punctuation. It spoke to his youkai blood of longing and rage, anger, frustration, and a deep, unremitting _hunger_…

Demons crouched in an eternally shadowed imprisonment laughed with eerie joy; loathsome, impenetrable, angry vengeance. Their menace rose up to unveil the one whom they had searched out and summoned to their side, champion of darkness…

"Inuyasha! It's…" Miroku whirled, his mouth dropping open.

Kirara snarled, hair standing on end as her twin tails lashed, the tiny kitsune burying himself into the thick fur of her neck with a despairing wail. With a curse at the fucking unfairness of it all, Inuyasha turned around, his claws gripping the hilt of his father's fang, ready to draw it forth.

"What…?" His mouth fell open in shock, brows raised in pure astonishment.

The demon, for that was what its aura suggested, was nothing he could ever have imagined, even in the worst of mocking nightmares. It towered above them, its head---or what it used for a head, though perhaps it was just the lurching hump of one shoulder, for it was round and bulbous, but lacked eye or ear or even a jagged line for a mouth, which was actually placed somewhere in the area of the creature's left shoulder, another, slobbering, more toothy version at the base of what could only be a hind leg's kneecap---was above the narrow canyon's height. It was furred, or parts of it, with various patches here and there, some coarse, some luxuriant, of various hue and different length, the worst a pink mohawk of jagged spikes growing from the middle of its sunken chest and crawling over the spine of the thing, ending in some kind of divided serpent's tail, which lashed like a sick version of a snake's tongue, flick, flick, flick, and then curled around what could only be a rear hoof, cloven and ending in green claws, the other hind leg a chicken's sinewy talon. The thing actually had five legs, if one counted the elephant's trunk that hung in the center of the thing, though Inuyasha really fucking hoped it was a leg, and not something _else_…

Shuddering with that disgusting thought, the hanyou thrust his hands on his hips and demanded with incredulity, "Just what the hell are you supposed to be?"

At his bellow, the creature's fifth---or third, depending on your viewpoint---leg rose and let out another belching roar of rage, showing a mouth full of jagged teeth at the end of the grey elephant's trunk that would make a shark jealous. The bulging pustules on the monster's hunched back suddenly blinked open, revealing various eyes that covered its disgusting form from hip to shoulder, blinking and watering at him as green pus dribbled down from the lippy fish mouth that covered the left shoulder of the hideous creature.

"We want the Jewel shards, we _must_ have the Jewel shards…" The creature gibbered and howled at him. One of its arms---for it roughly stood on the knuckles of the front pair of limbs---rose and reached for him blindly. It must have been hard to grab on to anything, for its eyes were on its back, and blinking up at the dull, grey sky. The unceasing rain continued to drip down, though it did nothing to hide the incredible stench that rose from the thing.

Covering his sensitive nose, Inuyasha felt the sudden urge to laugh. That, or choke, because the thing suddenly let out a belching fart from somewhere out of his line of actual sight that rose about it in a stinking green cloud of noxious fumes.

Miroku did both, choking on a muffled laugh, his blue eyes dancing with merriment even as he made a face at the fetid stink and covered his grin with one sleeve of his dark blue robes.

"Eh! What a smell!" Shippou blurted, using his twitching copper tail as a filter for his sensitive nose. Kirara reowled agreement, wrinkling her nose and hissing in disgust.

"The Jewel, we must have the Jewel!" The beast screamed and whimpered all at the same time, more mouths forming from various parts of it. The tail flicked and the sharp teeth at the end of the grey trunk gnashed in fury at the hanyou's loud guffaw.

Wiping his eyes, which had teared from both the noisome reek and the fucking absurdity of it all, Inuyasha stammered out, "Just what the hell could you want with the Jewel? Kami, could you even pick it up?"

"Don't mock us, half-breed!" The demon, or demons, or whatever it thought of itself, snarled and howled and screamed in fury. "Fear us, for we are formed of some of the most fearsome demons that ever existed on this earth!"

Miroku, faster at deduction than the hanyou, snickered. "Don't tell me you were all once devoured by Naraku, and eventually discarded for some reason or another---"

_"Naraku!" _The fetid, baldy-constructed monster screamed the baboon's name with utter loathing. "You speak that name to _us!_ You ask for your death, monk!"

Inuyasha choked. Gods, but it made sense. Naraku had ever harvested lesser youkai for their most powerful attributes, rejecting what he could not use or did not want and keeping what he did, combining the worst---or the best---parts of various devoured youkai to form the body that he was ever seeking to improve. The discarded bits had attacked him and his friends once before, in the form of a massive hairball of a demon with a giant, toothy grin. That weak ass hairball had desired Kouga's Jewel shards, seeking to use the shards to recover its true form…

"This is just damn ridiculous. Will that baboon's fucking meddling never die?" Inuyasha growled up at the grey heavens, which answered his query with only muffled indifference, the rain continuing to slip down from the thick-bottomed clouds. A drop landed right inside his left ear, which twitched with annoyance.

Fed up and out of patience, Inuyasha gripped the tattered hilt of his sword. Pulling it free to threaten with its deadly length, he scowled testily, willing the fang to life. "I'm going to end this right now. Prepare to die, demon."

Except Tetsusaiga, held in his two hands, would not transform.

_1515151515151515_

Gasping from her headlong sprint into the cavern's mouth, Kagome skidded to a halt, her frank brown eyes widening in surprise.

"Bankotsu?"

The mercenary sat upon a convenient rock at the foot of the monstrous statues, stony testament to the past. His head was down, elbows resting on his bent knees and his hands draped loosely between them. He seemed relaxed and waiting, and Kagome hesitated when the silence dragged on for more than a minute.

"Heh." He finally broke the silence, and looked up at her, his blue eyes dark, a flash of his old, derisive grin twitching up one corner of his mouth. "I've been waiting for you, miko."

"F-For me?" Kagome squeaked, suddenly feeling very much alone with a man who was well-known for hacking first and asking questions later, when it didn't really matter all that much...

He took in her expression and smirked, his eyes clouding with something that she could not recognize in him.

_Sadness?_

Bankotsu…_sad?_

No, she must have imagined it. But even as she told herself that lie, Kagome felt her fears fading, and she had to clutch her hands together in front of her, fighting the sudden desire to go over and give him a hug.

Bankotsu stiffened, as if he understood her sudden urge, and would have none of it. The cavernous tomb was silent and still around them, all sense of an ethereal presence gone, both the demonic and the angelic. Kagome shivered at the utter _emptiness_ of it, and looked around at the shadowy forms that rose behind the seated mercenary. The giant serpent's coils wrapped over and around the base of the ancient miko in a tableau frozen at the very hour of their death, twined forever on the passion of a last, desperate prayer. The gaping hole in Midoriko's chest, where the imprisoning bauble had been thrust into the grim reality of the Shikon no Tama, and the serene, patient expression on the stone miko's face made Kagome's heart clench, the tears pricking the back of her eyes with the overwhelming pity she always felt staring up at that hideous testimony to an end that had never come…

Forever embattled, forever embittered, forever entombed.

Shuddering, Kagome jerked her eyes away, biting her lip. Her gaze was suddenly drawn to the small, silken bundle Bankotsu was gingerly unwrapping in one hand. His giant sword lay beside him on the ground, forgotten and ignored. Kagome's brown eyes widened as the tumultuous, half-sphered Jewel shard was revealed, the swirling eddies of malignant power brightening and dimming with unseen menace that she could feel itching along her skin and raising the small hairs at the base of her neck.

"The Jewel…" She stepped forward, fingers extending in mingled curiosity and question. Bankotsu regarded her with an unwavering cobalt gaze, his mobile face for once void of all expression. Kagome leaned forward to touch the rounded shard with the tip of one finger, and the large fragment of the splintered Shikon no Tama flashed with a whitening light of pale purity. Trapped demons shrieked in bitter agony and dismay as an embattled priestess cried out in exultant triumph…

_1515151515151515_

"We were drawn here, we were promised the Jewel, _they_ promised us to make us whole, to make us what we were, what we lost! We were promised! They _promised_ us the Jewel!"

Inuyasha had always hated a mouthy monster, especially one who didn't know when to shut the hell up. Tetsusaiga would have put a quick stop to that hideous blob of rejected youkai parts, but the damn sword wasn't cooperating. Shaking the rusty blade that refused to change into the giant, steel fang of his father, Inuyasha snarled, "Just shut the fuck up, will you! Damn it, Miroku, this damn stick won't transform!"

Closing his eyes for a moment to concentrate, Miroku raised his bead-wrapped palm in a mystic sign. Opening dark blue eyes in surprise, the houshi answered, "This area is purified, Inuyasha. Tetsusaiga cannot transform here."

The noisome demon laughed and howled, gibbering and drooling and gnashing its teeth even as it raised one arm to beat its sunken chest with heady glee. "Now you will die, half-breed! Taste our wrath!"

Kirara rowled, jumping back as a large gap suddenly split along the spikey protrusion of pink hair, spitting forth a sizzling green glob of acidic poison that had all of them diving out of the way, afraid of being touched by that smoking bile, and uncertain of the monster's range.

But it fell far short, landing on the ground with a dull splat, spattering and sighing into a vile, steaming, mucus-covered mess.

"Is that a _booger_?" Inuyasha demanded, incredulous. He didn't know whether to laugh or howl in frustration at the rank absurdity of it all.

The monster screamed and whistled in fury. It also drooled and squealed, and worked itself up so much that it let out another hideously foul green fart into the air, making them all gag. It was one potent weapon, though the disgusting beast didn't seem to recognize that fact.

"Die, half-demon dog!" The monster whirled suddenly, the various eyes bugling out from its ludicrous backside glaring for his blood. With a snarl and a shriek, it charged at him. Using all five of its unsteady limbs, it raced across the rocky ground, reaching out awkwardly with one clawed hand, the fishy lips at the shoulder making disgusting, suckling noises as it drooled and spit.

Sheathing his sword, Inuyasha dove to one side, easily avoiding the clumsy charge. Finally pissed off, the hanyou whirled around and cracked his knuckles with menacing promise. "Fine! If that stupid sword won't work, then I'll just have to claw you to death!"

Though the thought of sinking his claws into that vile mass was enough to make him want to just drop the idea altogether. Too bad Miroku had lost the Wind Tunnel upon Naraku's death, that sure would have been a nice, easy way to dispose of this ridiculous excuse of a demon…

Bracing himself with a grimace, Inuyasha struck---and suddenly reversed his leap, backpedaling on air alone as the monster, snarling and howling and screaming up at him, suddenly exploded in a flash of violent white light, a sacred pink aura like one of Kagome's energized arrows swallowing the hideous being in blinding waves of raw power.

Somersaulting to a braced landing, Inuyasha covered his eyes with one red sleeve, blinking away the sparking flashes the blast of purification had left across his reeling vision. Coughing and tearing, he waited in tensed silence for his eyes to clear, and then had to blink a few times at the sight that greeted him.

For the monster had completely disappeared, leaving not one trace of itself, not even the sticky blob of green snot that had splattered across the rocky floor of the narrow canyon.

Glaring in ominous disquiet, the hanyou wondered what the hell had just happened, and suddenly remembered that his mate had disappeared into that infernal cave and was probably getting herself into who knew how much trouble without him there to rescue her.

"Damn it, Kagome!" Snarling, he raced for the cave, the monk and the neko not far behind. The entrance seemed bathed in a soft blue light---not the curtain of enigmatic energy it had once been, but a soft, welcoming glow.

Inuyasha didn't trust it. Growling, amber eyes bright, he vaulted inside, expecting resistance and finding none.

Finding Kagome bent over that stupid, cocky bastard of a mercenary did nothing for his temper, which was all keyed up for a fight that didn't seem to be developing. Inuyasha, frustrated, pissed, and quite frankly put out by that ridiculous excuse for a monster, was more than willing to start one himself.

"Bankotsu, you fucking corpse! Get away from my mate!"

Kagome jumped as if shot, one hand flying to cover her mouth. "Inuyasha…" She breathed, with that look of love and trust and outright fury all mixed up together, just like he loved to see it, flashing across her beautiful brown eyes.

"Kagome! Are you okay?" Shippou piped up from somewhere behind him, and Inuyasha growled as Bankotsu smirked.

"Of course I am!" Kagome insisted, her eyes snapping at her irritated mate.

"Is that a piece of the Shikon no Tama?" Miroku's voice was grave as he drew alongside the red-robed hanyou.

"Yes…" Kagome made a helpless, shrugging gesture toward the seated mercenary, who raised a thick black brow at them, as if silently challenging their sanity.

"I have a score to settle with you, Bankotsu." Inuyasha growled, claws caressing the frayed hilt of his Tetsusaiga, before he suddenly remembered what Miroku had said about the area being too full of purity for the sword to be able to transform. "Damn it!"

"Inuyasha, wait." Miroku laid a firm hand on his arm, the rings on his staff tinkling faintly at the abrupt movement. Bankotsu had unfolded himself from the flat stone that had served him as a throne and stood waiting impassively, the giant halberd ignored and untouched at his feet.

The houshi stepped forward as Kagome turned to stare at the mercenary, who stood unusually silent and still. Inuyasha folded his arms across his chest and let out a gusty sigh of growlly impatience. "Just what the hell do you think that stupid mercenary is gonna say, monk? Don't tell me you think he's going to actually admit to fucking around with Sango's emotions. That cocky bastard has no feelings---"

There was a flash in the mercenary's blue eyes, and the look he gave the hanyou did the impossible, and abruptly shut him up. "You know nothing, dog-boy."

Inuyasha was quick to recover his ire. "And you do? I'm gonna enjoy wiping that smug look off your face, ass hole. I killed you once, I don't mind doing it again. Let's just say that Sango is just one of many reasons I have for wanting your head on a stick."

"What do you mean, Sango?" Kagome demanded, grabbing his arm and glaring up at him. "There's something you aren't telling me, Inuyasha!"

"What's the matter with Sango, Inuyasha?" Shippou demanded, paws curling into the thick fur of Kirara's shoulders. The cat rumbled a soothing answer as Inuyasha's attention wavered between that cocky bastard and his insistent mate.

Kagome wiped her tangled bangs back with an impatient motion. "Damn it, Inuyasha! Tell me what you mean by that remark."

"Just that that bastard's scent was all over Sango, and you know how depressed she's been since he took her hostage. That ass hole's been playing with Sango's feelings, and took advantage of just how lonely she's been since Kohaku died. You just don't _do_ that to one of my friends, damn it."

"Inuyasha…" Kagome was giving him one of her approving, soft-eyed smiles, as if he had just said something that made her feel all stupid and happy---though Inuyasha hadn't a clue what he might have said to give her that damn look.

Irritated, he scratched the back of his head and scowled down at her. "What?"

"Wow, he's dense." Shippou said in disgust and Kirara wuffed agreement.

"Sometimes," Kagome smiled up at him, giving his a light hug. "But not when it counts."

Inuyasha bristled, not knowing just who it was that was now insulting him.

"Gods, hanyou, you are thick." Bankotsu smirked at him, some of his old fire returning for a moment. Amber eyes blazed, finding a good target, as the mercenary calmly stooped down to pick up his giant sword and casually point it at the monk. Miroku paused, a hair's breadth from the sharply gleaming tip.

Dark eyes of pain rested on the monk with marked warning before flicking past him to the hanyou. Sneering, he said, "You know nothing, dog-boy. What is between me and Sango is between _us_, and no one else. I don't have to explain myself to anyone, least of all you, half-breed."

Inuyasha's jaw clenched, but Kagome laid a gentle hand on his arm, her brown eyes frank as she looked back at the defensive mercenary. "But what about Sango, Bankotsu? What is _she_ to you?"

The grip on the long hilt of his halberd tightened imperceptibly as the mercenary said with a bleak look in his cobalt eyes, "Everything."

Kagome started, and then looked down at her feet as a blush spread across her cheeks. She felt as if she had just lanced open the heart-wound on someone already dying. There was such a wealth of feeling in that single, stark word; and she felt a sudden sense of overwhelming pity for it that she could not explain away, even to herself.

"Know that I would never intentionally hurt her, miko." Bankotsu said with bitter irony. Miroku stirred, wondering at that statement and what it might mean for his friend the taijiya.

The mercenary's eyes blazed as they settled on the hapless houshi. "Know that if I hear of you laying that damn hand on her again, monk, I will come back from the grave a third time to chop it off at the wrist. Got that?"

Miroku's fingers twitched in their wrapped beads, and a guilty flush spread up his face. "Ah, er…_cough_…"

"Now you're making _threats?"_ Inuyasha snarled, but Miroku thrust his clanging staff between them. His eyes, a darker shade of midnight than the mercenary's, were serious as he studied him intently. Bankotsu withstood the monk's scrutiny with nary a flicker of impatience. Instead, he held the houshi's gaze for a long moment without flinching.

Miroku suddenly bowed, surprising them all, and made a graceful gesture of blessing between them. "I think I understand you now, Bankotsu. The gods ease your chosen path, speed your way and grant you find eternal peace in the afterlife."

Bankotsu stiffened at the monk's prayer, but then he relaxed minutely and bowed stiffly in return. "Thank you, houshi-sama."

"What the fuck is that supposed to mean?" Inuyasha snarled with little understanding and a whole lot of annoyance. His mate was actually shivering, her eyes wide, as if she knew all too well what the hell was going on, and even Miroku was looking suddenly grim.

"Sit, boy."

Inuyasha abruptly smacked into the rocky earth, which wasn't all that forgiving about it. He wanted to snarl at the indignity of it all, but was too busy trying to force his head back up so that he could see just what the hell was happening. He felt a headache starting as the tiny sparks of dizziness left his vision, and he growled as he shook off the last vestiges of the potent spell.

Kagome, hardly repentant, stepped around his prone position, and pulled the small glass bottle from among the damp folds of her short, green skirt. The pale pink light from the jagged shards held within the bottle flashed across the hanyou's ambered gaze, and he stared in shock as the young miko uncorked the lid and shook the small, jagged pieces into her cupped palm. Gingerly approaching the stone-faced mercenary, she extended her hand with a wordless gesture.

"Kagome!" Inuyasha snarled, getting ready to jump to his feet and stop the crazy wench from doing something so stupid. What in all that was holy was possessing her to take their few, hoarded shards and just hand them over to that stinking corpse?

But Inuyasha was silenced, and not by another mild utterance of Kagome's subduing spell, but by the awesome aura that was slowly seeping out from the frozen statue of Midoriko just beyond them. Lines of blue power expanded, swirling into a gleaming mist of pearlescent purity as a vague shape took form, rising out of the blazing glow of expanding power and resolving itself into the bowed form of a small woman. A woman who was wrapped in ancient armor, the long, dark tresses of her midnight hair sparkling with the twinkling lights of a thousand stars, seen only on the clearest of nights under a scant moon. Her eyes, dark, compassionate, and gently reproving, turned on him with both amusement and welcome.

_:Peace, young child of two worlds. Know you that this has been fore-ordained by the gods, and that the mercenary's sacrifice will not be in vain.:_

Inuyasha could only stare up at her, ears twitching with astonishment.

_1515151515151515_

Bankotsu could feel the awesome presence behind him, the awareness of her stunning aura tingling down the back of his spine as the heart tightened in his chest. It was time, then. With a stoic expression he was far from feeling, he took the proffered shards from the young miko's hand, and noted idly that there were tears in her wide brown eyes. They were a darker shade than his taijiya's, more of a damp pine than a rich mahogany…

Thoughts of Sango hurt him, and so he shied away from them. Determination stiffened his shoulders, and he ignored the comforting essence of Midoriko that tried to surrounded him in a reassuring embrace.

_:Feel not sad, my child. Your sacrifice will assure you of the gods' favor, and the gratitude of many in both this world and the next…:_

Did she really think he gave a rat's ass for anyone's pitiful appreciation? He wasn't doing this shit for anyone but himself…

_:So you can still lie, even to yourself.:_ The miko's rich voice, mixed harmonies of a thousand souls both joyous and sad, glowed with amusement across the back of his thoughts. _:See it as you will, then. Still, we know your true heart. You cannot hide it from us.:_

The damn bitch was as annoying as that ghost-child of the Void with all her smug double-talk of 'us' and 'we'. Couldn't any of those damn haunts just use the singular 'I' when referring to themselves? Gods, was it irritating!

Desperately distracting himself from what he planned to do, Bankotsu shook away the silk cloth wrapping the largest piece of the Jewel of Four Souls and let it fall unnoticed to the ground with a soft, rasping whisper of rustling discard. Shifting the weight of his Banryuu in his hardened palm, he abruptly turned the giant sword and thrust it deep into the hard earth, the rocky ground no deterrent for his shard-enhanced strength. The blade quivered in arrested motion, and his heart tightened in the knowledge of what he was about to do to the shining length of gleaming steel when he removed the shards from within it.

_Damn. _It was just a sword, a stupid sword---but it was _his_ sword. His companion, and his friend. A beloved throughout the long, lonely years of not knowing another, or truly knowing if any other kind could exist. Loyal, true, a symbol of all he had lost of family and clan, and yet remaining unscathed through many a bitter battle. Edged in anger, and destroyed once in his blind quest for a strength that had always been there, inside him, just unrecognized…

Jaw tightening, Bankotsu pulled free the various splintered shards he had thrust in blade and hilt, his eyes avoiding the aching sight as the giant blade slowly scorched and blackened with age and disuse, cracks appearing like jagged lines of pain-etched dissonance along the once smooth, shining surface. It did not shatter, as he had half-expected it would, as it had done when he had died that last time, under Naraku's manipulation…

Grateful, at least, that he would be spared that, if nothing else, he slowly brought his palms together and held them cupped before him as he turned to face the misty presence of the ancient miko, her stunning aura filling every aspect of his soul, comforting him even as he refused to look up into her compassionate gaze.

_:Brave warrior, you cannot know what this sacrifice means to us.:_

The mercenary's mouth twisted in wry amusement as his heart clenched. She could not know what this truly cost him…

_:We know, lonely warrior, and truly, we understand.:_

Bankotsu suddenly felt like laughing, though he did not let the bitter sound pass through his tight-pressed lips. Instead, he nodded, and waited for her to tell him what, exactly, she wanted him to do.

_:You, my loyal children, must know this man's strength. He gives of himself, asking nothing, and sacrificing everything so that we may be freed and the Jewel destroyed for all time. His heart is great, his honor greater. Rare is he among men, and so should his true character be remembered by all…:_

The ancient priestess's gaze glanced over them, touching across the monk who stood gripping his staff, stone-faced and silent, to the young miko who was huddled in her mate's protective embrace, her face streaked with tears and bravely trying to gulp back her sobs at the absolute _finality_ of it all. The kitsune hugged himself into the neko's fur, eyes squinted against the unavoidable tears that slid down his little cheeks. The red-eyed youkai looked up at Midoriko with adoring intensity before bowing her great head in silent homage and final farewell.

The miko's kind expression became remote and austere as she turned her heavy gaze back to rest upon the mercenary who knelt before her, head bowed and scattered fragments of the Jewel of Four Souls glinting in the bowl of his joined hands.

_:Bankotsu of the Shichinintai, is it your true desire that the Shikon no Tama be restored from what first made it, and that your life be held forfeit? Do you wish this, knowing what price you must pay:_

"I do." His voice was harsh and unyielding, as flinty and unwavering as the cobalt gaze he raised to the miko's stern face.

Kagome shuddered, seeking solace from her mate, who stood as if rooted, his expression bearing witness to a turmoil of emotions he would ever deny.

_:Are you then ready to give up your life to ensure the Jewel of Four Souls' destruction:_

"I am." His reply was quick and hard, resolute. Kirara moaned low into the heavy silence, the kitsune's wail an echoing counterpoint.

_:This is the true wish of your heart, then, that you be sacrificed in return for the Jewel's destruction? This is what you truly desire:_

"It is." He bowed his head to the inevitable, and added in fervent pledge, "This is my wish."

White flames of holy power flared around the ancient warrior-priestess, flames tinged with the reddened malice of ancient anger and encroaching evil---though they were a pale counterpoint to the blending purity of her awesome aura. The mercenary was bathed in blazing lines of swirling luminance that bleached his tanned skin and deepened the stark contrast of the long black braid that hung down his back amid the pale white silk of his clothing.

_:So be it:_

The priestess's voice thundered across their minds, melding them all into one, sweeping them up to witness one man's unselfish sacrifice in giving all, even himself and his dreams, his own wishes and desires, his own hopes and his own small life in order to stand between those unknowing and the darkness that ever hovered, eager to consume and twist that which was good and whole to their own dark purpose…

Bankotsu heard the young miko gasp, and felt the monk's prayers even as he muttered them, soothing the mercenary's troubled spirit as he slowly felt his body dissolving into a blinding light of raw power. Physical vision blurred into pinpoints of dancing light as the Jewel shards within him, aiding breath and life, melted into one. The burning sensation in his hands flared with fierce complaint. The pain was something unexpected, and added to the fear that hovered there in the darkest shadows of his aching heart, though the stubborn will was also there to see it through, no matter what. This was the fate demanded him by the gods, and any anger and bitterness he had ever harbored toward it had disappeared under that hardened resolve within him to see it done for once and all time…

**_"Bankotsu!"_**

The cry was wild and terrible in all its screaming denial, but Bankotsu was beyond caring. His soul was spreading up and outward, unable to see the small form that shot toward him, arms outstretched and heart crying out in utter agony. A part of him recognized her, and he felt again that wrenching pain, tasted again for the last time the sweet joy of her as she was…

_Sango. Be ever happy, my love._

That was his true wish…a small, selfish little wish among all the rest that he instinctively recognized as the only thing he could ever really give to her without qualm or aching awareness of what he could not take for himself.

_Happiness…_

And then all was light and loss, and he was gone.

_1515151515151515_

**_"No! Oh, please God, no!"_**

The pain of her cry echoed off the roughened walls, falling back and doubling the heart-torn anguish of it.

_"Bankotsu! Oh, God, **Bankotsu!"**_

She could not seem to stop screaming, her eyes so brittle and dry, though the tears choked her, and her throat was hoarse from screaming out her denial of his death, the sacrifice of his life and her love. She coughed, and the sobs choked her throat, along with the dust and the light, which blazed and dimmed around her, and she willed herself to follow him, unable to live in this desolate world without him, without his strength and without his laughter, his comfort and his love…

_Please, oh gods, please just let me die!_

But her traitorous heart kept beating in her chest, the air kept gasping through her tight lungs, and the tears kept running down her dirty face. She beat futilely against the strong arms that held her, tried to ignore the soothing voice that urged her to silence.

"Sango, Sango, please listen to us. We need you here. Please don't go, don't die, don't die on us. We need you, taijiya…"

"Sango-chan! Oh, Sango-chan!" She recognized Kagome's soft touch feathering across her hot face, and Sango resented it, the intrusion of it.

"Damn it, taijiya! You better not die on us…"

Inuyasha. Even now, he acted the ass.

_Damn them. Why couldn't they just let me die…_

But she couldn't die, they would never let her, and her will finally broke as the sobs tore through her, shaking her with convulsions of ever-fresh pain. The knowledge of it was raw and bitter, and she could only sob against the houshi's chest, his arms holding her as she curled against him. Kagome continued to stroke the long tangles of her hair from off her damp cheeks, and Shippou hugged her knees with fierce intensity, his wails matching her heart-wrenching regret.

Grief was finally spent in dull exhaustion, and aching silence descended on them all. Kirara nudged her with a sad little mew, her red eyes glowing as she butted her small head against her hand. Sango uncurled her fingers enough to rub them across the kitten's creamy fur, and Kirara purred with tremulous empathy.

Sighing at inevitability, Sango opened her gritty eyes, and looked about her, ashamed at how sullen she still felt at the caring friends who surrounded her. Kagome's smile was tentative, the monk's grave.

"Welcome back, Sango." He said with a sigh as she shrugged out of his comforting embrace. "We were deeply worried about you."

"I…I must see." She said, managing to get to her feet with a shaky lurch.

"There's nothing there, taijiya." Inuyasha said, his growl rough but meant to be kind. Kagome gave him a Look he ignored, as usual. "You won't find anything."

"I have to see." She insisted mulishly, pushing past the silver-haired hanyou to stumble back into the cave's shadows, for they had dragged her outside sometime after that final explosion of brilliant light, when Bankotsu, the Jewel and the ancient, kindly face of a sad miko had all dissolved together as one…

She blinked back the encroaching shadows, rubbing at her dry eyes, which ached and burned. She felt raw all over, but she had to see the truth of it, had to confront and confirm the undeniable, though her heart flinched from it even as her lagging steps dragged her ever closer.

She let out a soft cry, more of a moan, and felt the sadness engulf her in fresh pangs of grief as she looked around her in dismay. For there was nothing there---no warring statues, or scrap of charred clothing, or even the splintered remains of his broken sword. The cave floor was swept clean of even the dusty remnants of discarded youkai parts the village had always taken there, their menacing auras protectively shielded by Midoriko's sacred barrier…

There was nothing, then, for her to even grieve over, nothing for her to take and bury among the honored graves of her ancestors, where she might mourn him among the other fallen kindred of her heart who were lost to her forever…

But somehow that thought was not as bitter as it should have been. He would not have wanted her to mourn him, would not have wanted her to continue to grieve him, forgetting life and desiring death with each labored breath of a dulled shadow at existence. It was unworthy of her, and unworthy of his memory, his sacrifice.

Closing her eyes, she spoke of her hurt and of her love, and the unspeakable gift of his brief presence in her life. _I will never forget you, Bankotsu…_

The tears came again, welling up out of her eyes with fresh sorrow, but it was of healing this time, and weary resignation. The sadness ate at her, would ever eat at her, but she could bear it, and would honor his memory and his sacrifice with her life.

Her friends had gathered around her inside the empty cave without her noticing. She was grateful for their continued strength and their continued support. She could not now remember a time when she had not needed them, though she had denied it, fiercely independent and always afraid of being somehow hurt by them, through no intention of their own. How stupid it all seemed now, how petty and how unworthy of her.

"Sango-chan." Kagome whispered, her voice soft and hesitant.

Sango managed a weak smile through the tears that dampened her cheeks. "Kagome-chan. I'm okay now, I promise."

Kagome swept the taijiya in a tight hug, the kitsune adding his glad cries as Kirara wound herself in crazy circles around their legs, purring like a small thunderstorm. Sango even managed a shaky laugh as she all but tripped over the impossible neko, who yowled a protest and ran behind the safety of the monk's draping robes.

"Stupid cat," Inuyasha scowled. They were quiet, sensitive to Sango's mood, but she smiled wistfully at them, and when she turned to leave, they silently followed.

She led them back out into the windswept dawn. Surprising how little time had truly passed. The incessant, dripping rain had finally stopped, but the air was chilled and damp. The clouds still hovered, but seemed lighter, and not as sullen or heavy. Sango led them along the lonely path that rose up from the narrow canyon and would eventually lead them to the empty village. Kagome walked hand-in-hand with her hanyou, Shippou on her shoulder. Kirara bound ahead of all of them, eager to put the cave behind her.

None of them could speak of what had just happened as yet, still in shock and not quite knowing what to say, but Miroku, who kept pace at Sango's side, broke the silence between them with a simple, quiet question. "What will you do now, Sango-san?"

Sango shrugged uneasily. "Rebuild my village, I guess."

She turned the idea over in her mind, and found she tentatively liked it. There was a purpose in it--something she would need to keep the sad sense of loss from eating away at her heart.

_I will rebuild my village, in honor of both our clans._

It just might be enough…

Sango's head was bowed as she emerged from amidst the canyon's shadows, watching where she placed her feet, for the steep path grew treacherous at that particular spot. Her attention jerked up at Kagome's startled gasp behind her, and her heart clenched as she blinked in stunned disbelief.

For he was there, outlined in the watery sunlight that had finally broken through the sullen clouds of mourning, his white clothing lit from behind as if spun from the pure essence of light, the giant sword casually draped over one shoulder awash with brilliance, as if he were some shining warrior out of legend.

He had to be a ghost, or a figment of her traitorous imagination, but the cocky grin that split his face, not to mention the mischief that glinted in his deep blue eyes was all too real, all too human, and utterly, undeniably _Bankotsu_.

There was nothing she could say, but her glad cry as she sprinted for him spoke everything held in her heart. The joy tumbled forth, fresh tears welling up in her reddened eyes as she was swept into his hard embrace, her trembling fingers sweeping across his beloved features, feeling the tanned skin warm and alive beneath her tentative touch. He was kissing her then, his mouth claiming hers in a hard kiss of fierce need, reunited passion blazing forth between them as if it had never stood discarded. She willingly lost herself in it, needing it as solid testimony that he was here, with her, and not gone, not dead, not_ gone…_

"Sango, gods, Sango…" He whispered to her, hugging her to him with a fierce possessiveness that sent tingles racing down her back at the feel of his firm hand on the arch of her spine, and the supportive weight of his curled arm as she leaned back to touch his smiling mouth with her shaking fingers, the tears coursing unnoticed down her cheeks.

"How…?" She asked, the love and hope in her eyes wondering.

"It was _you_, my beloved. You who brought me back. You, who could be strong but not truly happy without _me_."

There was wonder in his voice at it, that she needed him so much in her life. He had wished for it, her happiness, in his secret, hidden soul even as he had mouthed the wish to make whole the Jewel and heal the wound in Midoriko's heart. It stunned him, amazed and humbled him, that it was she who could never be truly happy without him, there in her life, wholly a man, living and breathing and truly a soul redeemed and spirit recalled. One who could live with her and grow old together, reclaiming her village and rebuilding their clans in the unfailing honor of fulfilled dreams and renewed hopes…

Weak sunlight touched across the entwined pair, a playful breeze tangling the ends of their midnight hair as Sango stared up at him, unbound and unhindered love shining in her beautiful brown eyes.

Grinning down at her, Bankotsu said simply, "I am but a man, ninja. But a man who loves the _shit_ out of you."

And that, in itself, was enough for true happiness.


	16. Epilogue

Disclaimer: I do not own Inuyasha, etc. This story is for entertainment purposes only.

_REDEMPTION_

Summary: Specters of the past bring forth questions for the future. Can she save his soul, or will he wander forever in darkness?

_WORDS_

_shoji - papered, lattice-style screens that divide rooms in a larger house_

_dojo - training arena, often used for karate_

WARNING! FLUFFY WAFF, BOTCHED PORTRAYALS OF HISTORY, RUN-ON SENTENCES AND SENTIMENTAL BLAH, CONTINUED POTTY MOUTHS AND TRITE ENDINGS…ENJOY!

_A/N - I thought this would be a short blerp on how life is wonderful, blah blah. Didn't think it would develop into it's own story, LOL. But maybe, just maybe, it provides a way for the world of old to live in the world of now. Cheers and gracias, Fate (Next project, finish Solace and Vengeance…mwa-ha-ha-ha!)_

**NEW AUTHOR NOTE 070507: I just wanted to give a shout out to Inuyasha-Angel, who has a lot of talent in her little pencil. She drew a pic for this fic: "Sango and Bankotsu together" that you can find at deviant art(dot)com. The link is here (remove spaces):**

**h t t p / w w w . d e v I a n t a r t . c o m / d e v I a t I o n / 3 9 7 9 6 0 4 1 /**

**Another awesome Sango/Bankotsu picture she made is called "Hentai" - Love It!**

**h t t p / w w w . d e v I a n t a r t . c o m / d e v I a t I o n / 4 3 3 8 1 0 4 5 ? O f f s e t 1 0**

**She has a few other pics and a too-cute beach skit you may want to check out. ;oP **

**I will also be continuing my Inuyasha stories, I haven't abandoned them, I have just gotten really busy lately. I will be freeing up some time to finish them up. (Fate)**

_EPILOGUE_

Miroku was the happiest of men. Surrounded by a bevy of beautiful young women, he could think of no better ploy than the oft-times foolish one of reaching one hand out to touch and tickle. The predictable result was ever the same. A feminine shriek of pure outrage, followed by a good attempt to smack the offending hand away.

Except the girl overbalanced and fell across his lap. Convenient, that. Reaching with both hands, the monk attacked the blue-eyed girl with wriggling fingers until she all but howled for release. The other girls quickly decided to even out the odds and attacked the poor houshi until he fell beneath them, crying surrender amid the shrieks of laughter and the tumbling confusion of sturdy little bodies.

The Taiyoukai of the West stared down at the tangled mass of monk, ningen and hanyou children with a golden aloofness that silenced them all by its reproachful austerity. Amid flushes and blushes and nervous whispers, Miroku finally extricated himself and managed a rather gracious bow toward the great youkai, a bow with more than a touch of irony about it.

"Welcome, Sesshoumaru-sama. We did not expect you so soon."

"Indeed." The Lord's cold gaze flickered over the small knot of children, stopping suddenly on the tell-tale silver head of a little girl who couldn't be more than two years old. Wide amber eyes stared up at the solemn Taiyoukai, and a finger promptly went into her mouth.

"Her resemblance to that stupid hanyou is remarkable, me lord." Jaken could not help but comment on the obvious. When no one moved fast enough to suit the snooty little imp, he said rather testily, "You, girl. You should be bowing to your betters. He is Lord of your Clan, you know."

The two-year-old stared at the imp for a long moment before she decided to do the one thing that had always worked for her. Opening her mouth, she let out a wail that bounced off the trees and welled up over the broad fields in rising agitation. A bird squawked, startled out of its tree, and there was a distant bellow from the village not far away.

Miroku looked impressed.

"Yes, the resemblance is _quite_ remarkable." The Taiyoukai said dryly as his brother came bounding across the fields at a dead run.

"Sesshoumaru!" He all but snarled, claws gripping the fang at his side.

"Family reunion?" Bankotsu was but a step behind, a black brow cocked in amusement as he stared from one brother to the next. Little Mika hurled herself at her glowering father, who hugged the little girl to him with fierce protectiveness.

"Been a while, Sesshoumaru. What brings you here, of all places, to the demon slayers' village?" Inuyasha growled as Jaken's eyes bulged.

"Insufferable pup! How dare you talk to me lord Sesshoumaru that way!"

"Jaken." The feminine voice was soft, but firm. The two-headed dragon landed on the grassy verge with almost dainty delicacy. Considering its burden, and the Taiyoukai's uncertain temper regarding his wife and newborn child, it was probably a smart thing to do.

"Rin?" The female contingent finally arrived, along with most of the village, and Kagome could not believe her eyes.

Rin's laugh was much the same, light and easy, if everything else had changed over the past ten years. Gone was the precocious little child in her adorable pigtail. The Lady of the West had grown into a beautiful woman, elegantly demure and yet fiercely loyal to her Lord. The eyes were the same, though, as Jaken hastily assisted his mistress down from Ah-Uhn's back. They danced with merriment at the entrance her ever-solemn mate could create for them. Clutching the precious bundle close to her breast, she made her way to stand next to her Lord, whose casual glance made certain that she and the babe had traveled well before turning his full attention back to the odd mix of human and hanyou who now surrounded them in a small cluster of dubious welcome.

"Rin-chan, is that…?" Kagome clasped her hands with delight, eager to get a look at the small, wriggling bundle in the Lady's arms. Rin nodded with a warm smile, though she would not speak before her mate.

Children nervously milled around their parents. Sango had to all but drag her youngest son with her as she pushed forward to greet the Taiyoukai. Kanaye refused to leave the safety of his grip on her leg, and seeing where their distracted mother was headed, three small bodies separated themselves from the knot that always hovered around Miroku and pressed in from behind as she formally greeted the Taiyoukai.

"My lord Sesshoumaru. You are well come to our village." Bankotsu was suddenly there, behind her, lending his solid, unspoken support as all hell broke loose. Most of them, including an irate hanyou who was currently demanding to know just what the fuck this was all about, had not realized that the forthcoming Council would include youkai, but it was they who were needed just as much as the priests and monks and taiji, if an alliance was to be forged in the troublesome times that lay ahead.

For if Kagome was right---and Sango had no reason to doubt the young miko's word, seeing as it was the history taught her in the modern era---then they would need all the allies they could get…

ooOOooOOooOOoo

"In fifty years, a young warlord will arise to unite Japan under one rule. Oda Nobunaga will win a decisive battle over the Yoshimoto clan, and pave the way for the coming Age of Man." Kagome chose her words carefully, uncertain of how much to reveal. What was history to her was mere prophesized speculation to the doubting youkai and ningen gathered here.

"The what?" Kouga sprawled across the floor, his mate Ayame curled up beside him. He scoffed at the idea of a mere warlord coming to power and ushering in some golden age of man. Although a close friend, they were cautious about entrusting the wolf prince with Kagome's true secret.

"Men surpass youkai? Impossible!" There were other noises of discontent as the youkai stirred angrily among themselves.

"The Oda clan is a small one. How can they possibly win against the Yoshimoto? They have no money, no power, no prestige!" This was from the daimyo of Kagome's own village. Other voices rose to take up the argument.

"The Oda support the Emperor."

"The Emperor! Hah! He's too broke to even crown himself Lord."

"This human Emperor has no authority over youkai, why should we concern ourselves with his interests?"

"Preposterous! This miko has no real evidence she speaks the truth. Why should we concern ourselves with the mutterings of a hanyou's mate?"

"You're gonna eat those words, ass hole." Amber glare, and Kagome's prompt protest, "Inuyasha!"

The meeting was deteriorating to the point of futility. Meeting Sango's eyes, Bankotsu nodded reassurance. Taking a deep breath, the taijiya stood up to gain their attention. A few glanced her way but continued talking, each trying to outdo the others in airing their own opinion. Looking grim, the taijiya glanced toward the Taiyoukai, who sat quietly across from her, a small space cleared around him---a rather telling fact in a room where space was at a premium and the assembled where crowded elbow to elbow, youkai to miko and monk to daimyo, with the taiji standing nervous guard over all.

Sesshoumaru raised a clawed hand, and instantly the room fell silent, all eyes drawn to the deadly Lord of the West. He simply nodded for Sango to proceed, and she nervously cleared her throat as all eyes were suddenly focused on her instead.

"All of you know that I and mine are taiji. Traditionally, we have been enemies of the youkai, and yet all of you know how much has changed since Naraku's death and the destruction of the Jewel. The shogunate grow stronger inside your own borders, even as your kind grow fewer in number."

There was many a dark scowl on youkai features, though a few looked thoughtful.

"It will pass! We live many times the single life-span of a man. This warlord, this Nobunaga you speak of, he will live and die before even my own grandchild is grown to maturity!" There were other nods of assent for the old youkai's sentiment.

"This might be true, youkai, but it is also true that for each grandchild ye claim, there are a thousand men born to each generation ye pass. Ye cannot hope to outlive them all." The querulous old voice of the aged priestess drew a respectful silence. Kaede got creakily to her feet, shunning any assistance. With her single eye, she looked around her at the varied attendees with frank contempt. "Think of it. Your grandchild, Taimaru, was born over ten years ago. In that time, the monk Miroku has fathered nine children. His bloodline, as many of ye know from Miyatsu, is legendary. Imagine how many children each of his sons---and he has six of them already, mind ye---will father, and how many children their sons and their sons' sons will father. And that is from but _one_ man."

The priestess fixed them all with a gimlet eye as Miroku flushed with embarrassed pride at the glares sent his way. "Ye count us so little, and yet ye forget that our strength has always been your greatest weakness. Your years are great, youkai, but so are our numbers. And unlike ye, we are easy to change with the varying tides, for our shorter years gives us the ability to look beyond the centuries ye count and seize the moment."

The old woman coughed, her energy spent, but there was a heavy, telling silence as she carefully resumed her seat.

Seeing his own opportunity, Myouga jumped to the center of the divided room. Few could actually see the tiny flea youkai, though his scratchy voice spiraled up from the floor. "Just so, Kaede-sama! So I kept telling my lord Inutaisho! My continued study of our history leaves no doubt in my mind that the spiritual age is waning, and that man will try and fill the gap…"

"How can you say that, old man? You're a fool! My clan is young and vigorous---"

"Silence, Unari! I want to hear what the flea means by 'spirit age'." Kouga growled the other youkai silent. His frosty blue eyes turned on the profligate houshi. "What do _you_ have to say about this, monk?"

Miroku coughed as all eyes turned once more in his direction. The head of his order, a Buddhist monk of great spiritual power but of limited tolerance and rigid beliefs, was frowning. There was a stir among the Shinto priests, though they had already given their word to stand by Kaede, who they respected greatly. It was only Kaede's firm convictions that had swayed them to follow young Kagome's outlandish predictions. There was no such strong a voice among the monks that could unite them. Miroku's mentor, Mushin, had hardly been respected among the spiritual brotherhood. Miroku's grandfather, though widely esteemed, had died over sixty years ago, and so they had paid scant heed to the miko's private warnings.

Kagome felt a twinge of sorrow, looking at those closed faces. Oda Nobunaga would attack the militant orders on Mount Hiei in 1571, killing thousands of Buddha's disciples and forever ending the power of the spiritual orders as a true political force in Japan. While she had danced around telling any specifics, she had tried to phrase her warnings with the dire consequences of inaction. She did not want to utterly change history---who knew what it might do to the future and the family and friends she had left behind when the well closed at the Jewel's demise. The effects of timeline paradox were too much for her to even want to contemplate, and so they had all agreed that while they must try to shape what they could of the future that she knew as fact, they could not change it to suit their own particular whims and desires.

They were not gods.

Miroku gingerly stood up, persuaded by Sango's encouraging nod. "Brothers, we must all seek to understand the world around us. Kagome, the reincarnation of the powerful miko, Kikyou, has had visions of the future that show how the world we know, that of youkai and taiji and monk and miko, will eventually decline. Men like this Oda clanlord will step in to fill the gap. Time is ever flowing, ever changing, and we should prepare _now_ for what we know is coming---"

"But how do we know?" A youkai protested. "This young girl, this miko, says this and that will happen, but how do we _know?"_

"Have you had any visions, houshi-sama?" This was courteously addressed to the head of Miroku's order by a concerned daimyo, and it was with a sinking feeling that Miroku watched as the holy man's expression hardened. The older monk had decided long before even meeting with Kagome that one girl's 'visions' were not threat enough for him to even consider taking steps to prepare. With a tired sigh, Miroku closed his eyes and silently prayed as the aging houshi told them in terse words that he did not, and would not, believe any such thing from a Shinto priestess, one who might or might not be the reincarnation of a dead miko, one who might or might not have once possessed the Jewel of Four Souls, one who might or might not have had visions of the future, and one who, by all accounts, dared to flaunt her hanyou lover while still pretending to have kept her spiritual powers of purity.

Inuyasha growled, his amber eyes glittering dangerously, but it was Kaede who laid a steadying hand on his arm and kept the irritated hanyou from lobbing that pompous priest's head off with one swing of his Tetsusaiga. Sango was surprised by the old miko's actions, but as she watched, she was amazed to see that the old monk's words were not having the effect she thought they would. In fact, the more the old man denounced Kagome's visions and her fitness even as a miko, using her distasteful liaison with an inu-hanyou as his main excuse, the more restless and angry the faces about her became.

The Shinto priests who had agreed to come to this unheard of meeting maintained bland looks as the monk's quavering voice turned apoplectic in his fanatic denial of the truth. The few daimyo, beholden to youkai lords or loyal to the shrines and open-minded enough to understand the need for this Council, were turning their eyes away from the elderly monk. Youkai were stirring restlessly, frowning in discontent at the houshi's continued harangue. Many cast sidelong glances toward Sesshoumaru-sama, wondering what he thought of the monk's disparaging remarks regarding his younger brother. The Lord of the West remained stoic and implacable, though Rin's eyes were narrowing with dangerous ire.

It was she who finally stood up and said sharply, "Stop! I have heard enough, old man. You discount the honor of the inu with your remarks---"

"Foolish woman! Who are you to gainsay me?" The older monk sneered back at her. "You have borne your lord a half-bred bastard as well, have you not? You should be ashamed of yourself, taking up with a demon---"

"Enough."

The icy voice was enough to silence all of them. Wide eyes turned to look at the Taiyoukai, who was now standing next to his defiant wife. The golden stare was hard and unwavering. "You insult the honor of my clan, monk. You will leave. Now."

The monk actually paled, before rallying his spiritual strength around him like a shield. Lurching to his feet, his bald head shining with sweat, he shouted, "How dare you, demon! I will purify you to ash---"

Angry mutters stirred the assembled ranks. The taiji who stood guard clamped their hands to hilts as more than one youkai glared with reddened outrage. Something had to be done, and quickly, or this mockery of a Council would quickly turn bloody.

The monk sputtered in outrage as a hard hand clamped down on his shoulder.

"Purify, eh?" Cobalt eyes glittered as Bankotsu smiled evilly. "I'd say you were offering threats to a peacefully assembled gathering. I think it's time you leave, old man."

"How dare you!" The monk choked as the former mercenary abruptly spun him about and dragged him out of the room. There was muttering among the other brethren. Miroku watched sadly as they all abruptly stood as one and defiantly, shoulders tense with pricked pride, followed their elected leader out.

"Nicely done." Kouga smirked with approval as Sango vainly tried to restore order. Voices rose, challenging each other at the monks' sudden defection. One or two more took the chance in the confusion to slip out as well. Noting that most of them were human, Sango wondered if it might not be miko, taiji and youkai in the end. She had hoped to forge an Alliance that might find a way to ensure that youkai-kind, who had no apparent part in Kagome's world, would continue somehow to exist in some small way unknown to a young schoolgirl of the modern age...

The initial suggestion had actually come from Bankotsu, surprisingly. He had always had a rather loose interpretation on the way things should be. Traditions, he insisted, should only be kept when they did some good. When they became irreverent, and made no sense, they should be as easily discarded as a weakened katana. Sango wasn't so certain they could pull it off. Taiji had always been protectors of…

She paused, inspiration dawning. A small touch of warmth whispered across the back of her mind, and she felt a sudden sense of emerging confidence that this was the _right_ way, as a voice she had never thought to hear again whispered, _:Heed him who you love, young one. Redeem the honor of your ancestors, for it was always your destiny to protect _all_ who need it, not just those you call brother.:_

Sango glowed for a moment, and she felt the unmistakable presence of her youkai friend curling around her feet as Midoriko's ebullient voice faded from her mind with a soft, tinkling laugh. Flicking her twin tails, Kirara purred and rubbed her cheek against her ankle. Glowing red eyes blinked up at her, and the neko's purrs increased ad the Taiyoukai made known his own choice, swaying the last of the dissident with his simple words.

"The world is changing, and we, as youkai, must change with it. My father, Inutaisho, saw this, and accepted it. He knew that the time would arise when man would come to dominate the earth. If we are to survive, then we must unite our people with theirs---or die." The golden gaze swept the hall, which had grown still under that stark sentence.

Rin's fingers were curled tightly in her Lord's claws as he said mildly, "My mate is ningen. My newborn son and heir, Koushinmaru, is hanyou---and inu." The golden eyes rested on his half-brother, as if silently acknowledging Inuyasha's own birth for, perhaps, the first time. Inuyasha didn't look all that grateful for the dubious honor, but he gave the Taiyoukai a slight nod of sour acceptance.

Sesshoumaru's voice was cool as he finished simply, "I and mine will follow this woman's words. This I pledge on my clan's honor."

With that simple proclamation of his favor, the Taiyoukai gracefully resumed his seat, his look one of icy indifference. Rin gave Sango an encouraging wink before setting her face into a suitably demure expression, her fingers still held tightly entwined with her Lord's.

There was a slight stir among the assembled youkai as Sango drew in a steadying breath. For the first time, they were truly listening. Stepping forward, the taijiya outlined her simple plans for the coming future…

ooOOooOOooOOoo

Snicking back the shoji screen, Sango slipped into her children's bedroom with a light tread, not wanting to wake them from their slumber. With a soft smile, she knelt by the boys' futon. Little Kanaye, the youngest at three, had buried himself under the covers so that only a bit of forehead and curly black hair peeped from the blanket's border. Bantaro complained bitterly about Kanaye always stealing the blankets, but he was sprawled on his side, his lanky form almost spilling over the edge of the small futon as he slept. He was getting too big now for the nursery, and would soon take up quarters in the training dojo with the other young apprentices.

Bantaro, born a year to the day of the Jewel's destruction, was every inch his father in miniature. He exuded a cocky assurance that often worried Sango, reckless as it was. He led the other children into enough mischief that his mother often declared it would one day turn her hair white---though Bankotsu would only grin and say the boy was merely indulging in youthful exuberance, even as he meted out a fair measure of fatherly discipline, often with Bantaro bent over a fence vainly arguing his case against further punishment.

For all the trouble Bantaro was, he still had a loyal heart and refused to allow any bullying or nastiness among the older kids toward the younger. He was often their champion, and their adored 'oo-aniki.' He respected his father and all but worshipped his mother. He was very protective of both of his parents, and had already shown signs of a more thoughtful maturity than was his usual want. Already those wicked blue eyes and ebon locks were reeking havoc with the local village girls, and Sango thought ruefully that Bantaro would be breaking hearts in just a few more years.

Just as long as he didn't take after his adopted uncle, Miroku. _That_ flirt had already made his way through the village women, and was game for a second try by the looks of Yasuo's thickening waistline. The pretty widow already had a five-year-old son with Miroku's laughing blue eyes. Sango fervently hoped that the redoubtable woman would bear the monk a daughter this time. Her village had grown enough in the last ten years, thank you.

With Kaede's earlier predictions regarding the houshi's future fertility making her frown slightly with foreboding for the future crowding of her small village, Sango glanced over at her daughters, who nestled together in the larger futon. Three dark heads crowned the single, large lump they made under the covers. Kaiya, the eldest, was seven, and the twins, Sorano and Leiko, were not yet five. Kaiya was a sweet girl, as shy and soft-spoken as poor Kohaku had ever been. She, unlike Kohaku, had flowered under her parents' patient care, and had a special place in her father's heart. Sango had worried at first that the young girl would never learn the way of the taijiya, but had finally grown resigned to the idea that her oldest daughter was not meant to be a warrior. Kaiya had a special knack for finding rare, medicinal herbs in the forest, and would spend hours with the village healer. She often spoke of Kaede, the old miko, with deep reverence and respect, and it may be that one day her young daughter would leave her to seek the way of the miko.

But for now she was still a little girl, and Sango would have a few more years yet before a decision would have to be made regarding Kaiya's future. Sorano and Leiko, now---there was no doubt but that both of them would eventually follow in their mother's footsteps and become warriors to equal any of the taiji currently being trained in the dojo. Although the twins looked little enough alike---Sorano tended to favor her father, with deep blue eyes and raven-black hair, while Leiko looked more like her mother, with bright brown eyes and burnished strands among the darker sable---they were fiercely loyal to one another. In temperament, Sorano was more like her mother, thoughtful, generous, and easily liked by everyone; while Leiko was often as cocky as Bantaro, and blunt and outspoken enough to rub people's nerves the wrong way, though she had a kind heart. Both girls were as stubborn as the day was long, and their fights, though few, were renowned. Almost as renowned as that of their parents.

A soft smile curved Sango's lips, and she looked up, fulfilled love shining in her honeyed eyes as a distinctive shadow blocked the faint light from the opened doorway. Bankotsu entered, and laid a calloused hand on her shoulder, squeezing gently. Sango covered his fingers with her own, and they stayed that way for some time, eyes resting on the wonderful gifts life had brought them in the intervening years. Wonderful gifts, strong and sure, loved and loving. Their children would carry on their parents' legacy, and would bring honor to their clans in the coming years and the coming struggles.

For the tides of the world were changing. Perhaps not in their lifetime, but in their children's, or their children's children, the face of this tiny island-nation would change, and both of them knew that their blood would be strong enough to meet those changes---perhaps, even, to help steer them into a future bright with both possibility and promise.

The first changes had just been put into play. The unlikely Council they had called on Kagome's behalf had already ironed out a few tentative measures that would eventually become the secret laws that would govern the first Alliance of both miko and youkai, with the taiji---traditionally protectors of only men---to now act as Guardians for both men _and_ demons. For inevitably disputes would arise between so volatile a species, and it would be the role of the taiji to guard and protect both from the actions of the few who would seek to supplant the Alliance's rulings.

For although Kagome had known a world with no youkai in it, no one could doubt that they would be there, just hidden and secret from the normal, everyday knowledge of men. For as man gained in power and the old youkai lords fell from rule, old legends would be forgotten in a world that was ever racing toward a brighter future, ever seeking and ever reaching, even, eventually, for the stars.

Some might say that old legends could never have a place in such a world. But old legends never die, they just lie in wait for their time to come again…

And Sango was certain, as Bankotsu was certain, that they and theirs would always be a part of it…life renewed, honor rekindled and love reborn in a world redeemed.


End file.
